tinsel covered snowflakes
by tsumimita
Summary: A friendship blooms and suddenly two unlikely people are drawn together for Christmas, all because one of them was too stupid to realize who they were sitting next to. REALLY late Christmas/New Year's fic. Russiaustralia, stupidly sappy stuff awaits!
1. Chapter 1

To say that the room had fallen silent was an understatement. It was more accurate to say that someone went and purged the act of vibration (keep your minds out of the gutter, please) from existence, making it impossible and therefore rendering sound impossible, or than someone went and made speech impossible, because unless crickets talked or somehow made sound without vibrations, they still chirped noisily to fill in the increasingly awkward silence. Of course, there was still one person that kept talking, although considering the current comprehension skills of everyone in the room it might as well have been crickets chirping.

"What?"

He sat there, joyously oblivious, a big stupid smile plastered on his sun kissed face as seemed as permanently as he stared at the rest of the nations in the room cluelessly. Any reason for them to have such horrified looks on their faces (well, maybe excluding nations equally as oblivious or uncaring as he) was just beyond him, it seemed.

Well, was the fact that Australia was sitting next to Russia such a big deal?

Alright, so to be fair, even Ivan found it a surprise, if his eyebrows placed so high on his forehead that they rivaled only Mt. Olympus had anything to show for it. No one _ever _sat next to the Russian willingly (except Natalya, but hey, even _Ivan _doesn't want to sit next to that nut job), especially since Christmas was rolling around; everyone would much rather sit next to their friends and such (really, why couldn't they hand out their gifts _after _the meeting?). While the Baltic nations would usually sit next to him, Eduard had left his seat near the larger nation in favor of sitting next to his friend Tino, with Raivis opting to sit with Peter (what was he doing at the meeting, anyway?) and Feliks had gone and taken Toris with him. His sister, Yekaterina, still stayed a fair distance away from him, and his other sister, Natalya, was missing for reasons unknown (not that Ivan cared; at least she was awayfrom him!), leaving the Braginski to sit in his lonesome.

And since there was such a huge empty space, Steve, who usually sat in the back where no one noticed him (through no fault of his own, of course! It was just that the other seats were always taken), took advantage of the situation. At least, in his mind it was an advantage. Everyone would much rather have gone unnoticed than to sit next to the Russian nation to get attention.

"Dudes, seriously, I thought we were supposed to be talking or something," Alfred cut in the silence, being one of the blessedly oblivious people as he resumed slurping his soda noisily. For the sake of insulting the blond, Arthur also broke into the silence, "Don't hurt yourself there!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

And just like that, the small incident (if it could even be called that) was forgotten, and everyone returned to bickering amongst themselves once more. The brunet looked at everyone else for a while longer, still confused as to why they had fallen silent so suddenly in the first place before finally shrugging it off. Yet, Ivan still stared at the Aussie as if he had sprouted pineapples for ears. Give the guy a break, okay? His previous Christmases were so cold and lonely that in meetings the seats next to him would surely give you frostbite if you dared sit in them! To even have someone simply sit next to him made him feel… well, confusingly warm and fuzzy.

"Why are you sitting next to me?"

For the first time, it seemed, Steve noticed that someone was actually sitting next to him and he looked up at the silver-haired male, now more confused than ever.

"Uh, am I not supposed to sit here? Sorry, mate."

The Russian was confused as to why the Australian had used the word 'mate' to refer to someone whom he'd never really spoken with, let alone someone whom he bred with, but panic quickly overrode his confusion when Steve made to stand from his seat and walk off. His arm shot out and grabbed the other nation's hand before he could stop it and he looked up at him, trying his best not to look as baffled as the other was or pleading. Of course, he failed miserably, but Steve wasn't doing much better with his confusion!

"Нет, нет! It is alright! It is just… people do not usually want to sit next to me," Ivan all but mumbled the last part, wringing his hands, somewhat embarrassed. Steve only laughed boisterously, clapping a hand on the giant's shoulder, causing the other to flinch at the sudden contact. Steve didn't notice.

"Well, that's just weird. So hey, how's it goin'?"

"Um, uh…" Ivan sputtered, still fidgeting, a slight red coloring his face. It had been _forever _since another nation had willingly initiated a conversation with him! What was he supposed to say? He did not like the feeling of being like a nervous little school girl with a silly infatuation! (Not to say he was infatuated with anyone, of course!) He was the Russian Federation, damn it! He was the largest nation of them all and could totally own everybody if he wanted to!

"…things are, uh, going f-fine." Damn it. "How are you?"

"Well, it's gettin' real busy this time of year at my place," the Australian rambled loudly, before lowering his voice and smiling sheepishly at Ludwig, who glared at him for interrupting his speech. "Everyone's doing Christmas shopping and cramming the shopping centers 'cause it's too hot outside."

At this, the Russian perked up. It did not snow at Steve's house?

He must have said this aloud, for the brunet started to laugh. Ivan could not help but feel a bit embarrassed. Just a tiny bit.

"Eh, only in some places. But not in Christmas; it's summer then," Steve explained, before pausing to heave a sigh. "Never have gotten a White Christmas at my place."

Here, the conversation came to an abrupt halt, and Ivan felt the same unfamiliar nervousness from before rise up. He did not want their talk to end there! It may be another blue moon until someone decided to talk to him again! When Steve didn't continue talking, and the gray koala on his shoulder (since when did that get there?) began to glare at him with evil, glowing red eyes, in desperation, Ivan spit out the first words that he could form coherently in his head.

"You could come to my place for Christmas!"

Well. Even Ludwig had to stop talking at the exclamation. Ivan felt all the eyes in the room turn to him, the air becoming thicker. Immediately, the Russian could not help but feel foolish. Even his dear Toris would not spend Christmas withhim, instead choosing to spend it with that excruciatingly annoying Pole! Why would Steve want to spend time with him? In fact, there was even less chance that he wanted to go than Toris did, or maybe even Alfred! (Of course, Alfred would only be there to sneak hamburgers or something equally vile into his country, or replace his food with Arthur's cooking…)

The Australian probably hadn't even experienced winters as harsh as his! Why, Ivan was sure that Steve would contract some form of frostbite the moment he crossed Russian borders! General Winter knew that he had enough ice statues stashed in his house, why so willing to give more?

The Russian was so caught up in his thoughts and was all too ready to retract his offer that he almost didn't hear Steve's reply.

"Sure, why not?"

If Ivan thought that was enough to force order into chaos, Steve had to go up to eleven and break the damned meter.

"You could come to my place, too! It's warm as hell there!"

Then all hell broke loose. No, not just hell. Now God would surely unleash his wrath and smite him at that very moment, or Thor would drop his hammer on his toe and blame him and choose to kill him in painful ways so unimaginable that he had not even imagined it yet! It would be horrible! No, wait, in fact, he wished for it! Anything to get him away from the center of attention! It was just too embarrassing! If he thought his place was cold before, it was now flooding because his face was hot enough to melt all the ice and snow! No, the floodgates had not yet opened; he was not crying! Why would he? That was just silly! Surely, if he cried, his tears would freeze the instant they were released from the tear ducts, forever preventing him from crying or blinking ever again! But hadn't he said that it was hot enough to flood? Screw his frantic, contradicting thoughts!

Just when he though that he'd run out of the meeting in a manner not all too different to that of his dear older sister, what with the overdramatic run and shoujo tears streaming down the cheeks, Ivan decided he would not take crap. Well, at the very least, he wasn't about to let anyone whisper, stare and snort at him or just plain walk over him without him having a say about it!

"I-I think that would be wonderful," Ivan said to the Australian, who in turn smiled brightly enough to outshine the sun and break the light bulb. Then the Russian turned to everyone else, and continued with a shaky smile, "Don't you think, да?"

Then the funniest thing happened! Everyone's face turned the most interesting shade of blue, save for Feliks who probably abhorred any color but pink on anythingthat he owned. Ivan thought this the strangest thing. What a weird way to react! Everyone acted as though the temperature had dropped several degrees. Had General Winter snuck in without his knowing? His eyes darted around the room in slight paranoia, and all the nations he skimmed over hastily averted their eyes. Then Ludwig coughed and with the smallest of stutters, resumed his speech.

"Uh, hey there, mate," Steve suddenly said, placing his hand delicately on the big man's shoulder. Ivan hadn't even noticed that he had retracted it in the first place. "You can stop scaring everyone now."

Ivan was being scary?

"That is just silly. I am not being scary!"

Steve just looked disbelievingly at him. Even Antonio had shuddered at his earlier display! He was probably the densest person in the room! And yet Ivan himself did not think he was scary? Either the big guy was lying or he really wasn't trying to be scary. And if the latter were true… the Australia shuddered to think how he acted when he _wanted _to scare people.

"S-So, anyway. How 'bout I go to your place for Christmas, and for New Year's, we go to my place, yeah? Is that alright?"

"That sounds good, да? But I might have to discuss this with my…" Ivan shivered, and trembled as he spoke, "little sister, Беларусь."

The brunet stared at him silently, blinking slowly before asking, "Bela-whatsit? Who's that?"

…

…

..-

"YOU DO NOT KNOW?"

The yell instantly quelled all conversations in the room and this time even the crickets fell silent, and again all eyes turned to the tall Russian who was now standing in all his tall glory, bearing down on an Australian as equally confused as everyone else in the room. But for once, Ivan didn't care for the stares, only grabbing Steve harshly by the shoulders, as he continued to shout,

"БЕЛАРУСЬ IS THE DEVIL'S SPAWN! SHE IS INSANE! SHE HAS LOST HER MIND! FOR ALL WE KNOW, SHE DRINKS THE BLOOD OF VIRGIN WOMEN AND SACRIFICES BABIES!" Ivan cried hysterically, eyes glazed over. If Steve wasn't terrified of him before, surely he was now. "I mean, I know, she is моя сестра, and she is very красивая, but one cannot take her tendencies for so long! She is like a nymph! Красивая, да, but harm befalls all who dare approach her! I must be dead a thousand times over!"

"You got that right, you commie zombie," Alfred snorted, but was quickly shut up with a glare by Arthur. (A chill ran down his spine as he sensed a glare of disapproval, but when he whirled around he did not see anyone…)

"She is evil incarnate! She is Jekyll and- no, she is simply just Hyde! She is darkness' mistress! She is marmite's personification! She is the stepsister of Франция! The daughter of Baba Yaga! She is- Боже мой, is she here?"

Ivan's crazed eyes shot around the room like wildfire and by the time Ludwig tried to tell the hysterical Russian that no, his sister was not here and was away with a cold, the silver-haired man had stormed out of the room with a pathetic wail.

"All that loneliness must be getting to him, what with Christmas being so close and all," Alfred said through bites of his cheeseburger, his insensitivity earning eye-rolls from everyone minus the Baltic nations, who were 110% sure that the moment they even tried to do something so heinous, Ivan would surely come колколколing back into the room with a pipe. The fact that the колing made him sound like a demented Santa did not help at all.

"I'll… go get him," Steve finally said after a minute of silence, earning a few appreciative nods and murmurs as he headed quietly outside the door.

* * *

When the Aussie finally found the Russian, he had just suffered an hour's worth of Ivan-hunting, having searched the entire building (and it was a damn big building) no less than ten times and had interrogated at least fifty people. I mean, how hard could it be to find a six-foot something scarf-toting silver-haired psychopathic manchild? That's what the brunet had initially thought, but no, it had to take sixty minutes of his life that he would never get back in order to see just how wrong he could be!

He found Ivan lodged behind a vending machine.

"...uh, hey big fella, wanna get outta there sometime soon?"

The Russian did not move at all, and just when Steve feared that the land of Russia would forever be a place of perpetual winter, Ivan slowly inclined his head toward the Australian from his fetal position (how did he even fit in there?) and rasped,

"Is my sister here?"

"Well, yeah," and Steve instantly regretted his words as Ivan made a horrible sound akin to that of a dying llama.

"I-I mean, your older sister. Ukraine was it? Belarus-"

"She-whose-name-shall-not-be-spoken," Ivan whispered, eyes wide. Steve swallowed.

"-uh, she-who-shall-not-be-named is sick and stuff. So, uh, what were we talking about?"

Ivan looked up at Steve properly, before finally shuffling his way out of the niche and straightening up to stand, leaving the Aussie momentarily stunned. He knew that the bear was huge, but this? He didn't look all that big sitting down, but standing up? He completely dwarfed the Australian! Steve spent his moment of shock staring up at the Russian, who was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with all the unwanted attention. He cleared his throat.

"We were planning to... meet-up, да?"

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, so you have to discuss it with your sister, right? Maybe she could come along instead?"

Ivan's vocal cords upgraded from dying llama into bleeding cactus. Maybe Steve was secretly a sadist (or was it masochist?)...

"I-I was just joking, mate. We'll talk more about this later; we've already missed enough of the meeting as it is, if it isn't already over! So c'mon, let's go!"

"Да."

* * *

It had been a week since they had last spoken, and oh, Christmas was so frighteningly close! The duo's plans had not yet been discussed in detail. The Australian had simply told the Russian that he would come 'whenever'; all the Russian had to do was wait for him. Ivan was then told to also come over 'whenever', as long as he'd stay over for New Year. Steve left it at that, leaving Ivan to come up with the rest. He had not yet started to plan Christmas. Westerners began Christmas terribly early (although, Australia was not exactly to the west...?)! He wasn't even supposed to start planning until after New Year!

That thought put a slight damper in the man's mood. It would be the first year that he would not be able to plan his own New Year's celebration. But then again, what had he to miss about it? New Year's was celebrated much more at his house; everyone was just so lively! But he, himself, sat alone in his empty house, with only his bottle of vodka to keep his company. Yekaterina would try her best to come every yeaer, but sometimes it just could not be done. This year, he would not plan his New Year's celebration, but what was so fun about planning a celebration spent in solitude? This year, he would be able to celebrate the comingof the New Year together with someone!

The very idea brought color to his cheeks, and a small giggle threatened to escape his lips. It was not like him to admit, but it did get terribly lonely at New Year's. Oh, he was so excited! But how did Australians celebrate New Year's? Surely, it wasn't all too different from how he celebrated it?

Ah, but there were more pressing matters! Christmas was much closer than New Year's could be! (Well, at least, outside of Russia...) He had yet to prepare! Steve could come at any moment now!

As if on cue, Steve had appeared at his doorstep. But he did not knock, leaving only General Winter to tell him that he was indeed in front of his house. Ivan felt his grin widen. Silly Steve! Did he honestly think that he could surprise him? No, that was what Ivan was best at! How could the Australian surprise him by sneaking in, when Ivan had left the door unlocked for him?

Ivan was not very from the door. Almost all the rooms in the house were adjacent to the large hallway that ran from the door to the other side of the building, and he sat in the room closest to the door. There was a large window in ever front room of the house, and no doubt Steve had seen him through his window. Well, now Ivan was the silly one! He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he failed to notice Steve sneak up on his house!

He heard the familiar creak of the door opening, but it was a bit different in that it was opened much more softly, and the hand that rested on the brass knob was much lighter. Careful footsteps invaded the silence; had the house been a bit more lively, as when the Baltic nations were scuttlingaround, then surely the Australian would not have been heard, but that was not the case for now. A shaky exhale warmed the air as the door was shut just as carefully as it was opened. Ivan had to cover his mouth to hide his giggle as he imagined the Australian shivering. He could practically hear the poor nation shivering!

With the feet of a cat, Ivan tiptoed out of his seat and approached the entryway from the room into the hallway. He held his breath as the footsteps from the hallway came to a sudden stop, and for a while neither moved. Had Steve been alerted of his presence? It was the only reason he could think of for the brunet to have stopped so suddenly. He could just be suspicious, but that did not necessarily mean that he knew the Russian was there! Not a sound could be heard, and it felt as if the world had stopped turning until a moment later the light footsteps continued, and, if anything, were even quieter and slower than before. The footsteps became ever closer and just when Steve would make the turn and see the Russian-

"КОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛКОЛ-"

"BLOODY HELL!"

Ivan let out a loud, hearty laugh at the Australian's shriek, and was in tears by the time Steve had managed to pick himself up off the floor. Oh, his reactions were so much more amusing than that of Raivis'! Every time, the Latvian would drop out cold, but would never provide such an interesting reaction! At this point, Steve looked much less shaken and much more relieved.

"You scared the bejeezus outta me," he huffed, crossing his still shivering arms. "Thought you were an alien or somethin'!"

At this, Ivan made an ugly sort of grimace, and it only served as more reason to be afraid of the Russian. His facial expressions bordered on downright psychotic.

"Next you will be telling me that you believe in ghosts, like that dreadful Америка," Ivan grumbled, spitting out Alfred's name like a hairy, poisonous and not to mention American caterpillar.

"What? No, no. That's lame. Ghosts aren't real. What's your beef with that guy, anyway?"

"Don't like to talk about it," Ivan said curtly, before turning on his heel abruptly to return to his seat, surprised footsteps hesitantly following him in. "Anyway, you have come quite early! Christmas is not for... fourteen days!"

The Aussie stared at him blankly. "...Christmas is tomorrow."

Then it was Ivan's turn to stop and stare, before having to chuckle a little at his own silliness. Of course! Christmas was on the 25th of December and what not...

"Do forgive me then. At my house, Christmas is usually celebrated on the 7th of January."

Steve opened his mouth to talk but Ivan quickly cut the brunet off.

"And to spare you the trouble of asking, the reason we do this is because the Russian Orthodox Church follows the old Julian calendar, which is quite some days behind yours."

"How did you know that I was going to ask that?"

A small smirk quirked the Russian man's lips. "Америка once asked me the same question."

"I can't shake the feeling that you're comparing me with that guy. Are you comparing me with him? 'Cause I'm really nothing like that dude, I swear," Steve blurted out suddenly, leaving the brunet a bit embarrassed and the Russian likewise for having been caught. He had not really meant to compare on purpose, but it just seemed to happen when meeting with other people. Had he offended the Australian? That would be awful! What if Steve decided that he wanted to leave?

"I'm sorry, did I offend you?" Ivan asked with a small frown, his worry evident on his face. "If I did, I did not mean to. It seems that you... ah, what was it? Have a bit of 'beef' with him, also."

"Eh... I don't like to talk about it."

Steve burst into small chuckles, which quickly ascended into full-blown laughter, and before Ivan could grasp why the brunet was laughing so hard he found himself laughing right alongside him. He was just happy that this time around, he actually had someone to laugh with! Oh, how his heart raced and filled with a great warmth! He was sure that his face would split into two from all the smiling and laughing that he was doing today! Surely, this was what friendship felt like. How did he ever manage to live his whole life without it, to live alone as he did? He hadn't even felt like he was alive until right now. How alive he felt just by being with someone that he could laugh and talk with! This, Ivan thought, his laughter dying down into chuckles and giggles, was enough of a Christmas present for him.

"Ah..." Ivan suddenly faltered, causing the Australian to also stop laughing and to look over somewhat curiously. "I did not buy you a Christmas present."

"It's alright, mate," Steve grinned, before it turned into something more sheepish, "I didn't really expect anything, and to be honest, I didn't actually get you anything either. But hey, seeing all this snow for Christmas is enough for me! Funny thing though, I'm actually getting a bit of snow back at my place. It's the middle of summer, would you believe? That's global warming for you, seriously."

Ivan suddenly felt a dull pang in his heart, and he finally recognized it as hurt. He was feeling hurt? Why was it? It felt a little like Steve was using him. Maybe he just invited himself over to see the snow, and he only chose the Russian because he was the most convenient at the time. Perhaps Alfred had declined, and so had Arthur, so he was using the Braginski as a last resort. It was hard to deny that yes, the Russian was indeed feelinga bit upset at the idea that Steve was forcinghimself to be friendly withhim, and on a regular occasion would never try to approach him. What if they ended up witha relationship similar to that of Alfred and he? They acted nice on the surface, but there was a bitter rivalry beneath. He did not want this kind of relationship with the Australian. He seemed pleasant enough, and the fact that he did not run away screaming like a banshee the second he saw the Russian was a big plus, too!

Well, Ivan never thought himself a person whose emotions were displayed clearly on his face, but his emotions seemed to disagree with him this time around and fancied the idea of being a sort of exhibitionist, deciding to make themselves obvious, raw and vulnerable on the Russian's face instead. His expression was one that even the Australian could not ignore, and this time, when the brunet did look at the taller man, he did frown a little. He stared at the Russian, trying to figure out, why would he be wearing such an expression, before something akin to horror dawned on his face as he realized what he had just said and what implications it left. Before Ivan could process this, Steve had his hands gripping the Russian's shoulders, before quickly pulling them back with a red face at Ivan's surprise.

"E-Er," Steve began, waving his hands around in front of him somewhat frantically. "I-I mean, that's not the only reason I wanted to come over! I-I've always seen you at meetings and stuff, but everyone's scared of you and I don't really understand why, I mean, you never seemed particularly mean to anyone, and you were always smiling and stuff so I thought, maybe he's really a nice guy or something! I just thought, I really wanna be your friend and stuff, y'know, and, man, I'm rambling a lot and stuff aren't I? I'll shut up now."

An awkward silence fell upon the two, both havinga tinge of red on their cheeks. Steve tried to convince himself that it was because of the cold and stuff, not because he had just totally blurted out all his feelings like some hormonal girl from a chick flick or something. (Not that he watched them, nope.) No! He had to man up! What he said was the truth, so he had no reason to be embarrassed or anything!

"Well, I gotta admit, that was hella awkward, but I meant it alright? I wanna be your friend!" Steve all but shouted, grasping the Russian's large hands in his own glove clad ones. Emerald green eyes stared intensely into wide violet orbs, and suddenly Ivan felt his face flush. Oh no, he was back to being a pre-teen infatuated girl! It wasn't even like Steve had confessed to him! He just wanted to be friends. But... even being friends was...!

An unstoppable grin broke out onto the Russian's face and before the Australian could comprehend what was happening, Ivan had taken him into his arms for a potentially bone-crushing bear hug that Steve was sure squeezed his lungs out. A deep laugh escaped the Russian, his chest rumbling, and with Steve pressed up against him, it produced a very awkward feeling as the Aussie hastily slapped his hand against the other man's back.

"Okay, okay! So we can be friends, I get it now! Let me go man, please, I gotta breathe!" Steve shouted, gasping for breath when he was released and leaning on his knees. The Russian smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, другь. It is just that I am so excited! It's been a long time since I've had a friend over for Christmas, or rather, a friend to have over at all."

"Well, you don't hafta worry about that anymore, mate. I'll be free to come over when you need me, 'cause that's what friends are for. Of course, that means you gotta do the same for me, alright?"

"Да. You know, that sounded exceptionally like something that Америка would say, minus the inane blathering of how heroic it is to do such a thing."

"Hey, there you go again, comparing me to that American! I'm starting to think you wanted me over here as a replacement for him! Well, someone here has a bit of sexual repression!"

Ivan's face flared, and Steve laughed at his own lame joke (if it even deserved to be called that), the Russian attempting to laugh alongside him but only succeeding to sound like some kind of dying motor. Was that how everyone else viewed his and Alfred's rivalry? Sexual repression? Oh boy, and they weren't even back in the Cold War! What did people think of them back then...?

When Steve finally managed to quieten down, he asked, "So anyway, how do you usually celebrate Christmas?"

"Oh, nothing too special," Ivan replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "There is usually a Mass held and many people go to it, and families come together. Usually Christmas celebrations are dwarfed by New Year's celebrations..."

"That's kinda like how it's celebrated at my place! Except I guess that Christmas is just as big as New Year's is, and there are a lot of parties and stuff. We celebrate New Year's with fireworks! How do you celebrate it?"

"Well... we remember all the things we did that year, get drunk for the last time of the year and after midnight get drunk again for the first time of the year. I think that is the basic... gist, was it?"

"...okay then. Well, if you want, we'll do that for New Year's too, but you definitely have to see the fireworks!"

"Is it really that interesting?" Ivan asked. He had fireworks over at his place, too, but he never really had the chance to watch them. What could be so interesting about it, anyway? They were not going to be the ones setting off the fireworks, and it would only serve to burst your ears with the explosions. It probably smelled bad, too. Wasn't it really hot over in Australia? If there were many people, wouldn't it just feel hot and stuffy?

"Yeah man! I could even convince some people to let us set off some fireworks, or if worse comes to worst then we can just set off our own fireworks!"

"There are different fireworks?" Sometimes, Ivan thought that these English-speaking nations had a worse grasp on the language than he did.

"I mean, usually there's like this huge celebration at the Sydney Harbour and stuff, and they got these super awesome fireworks! Usually they get professionals to do it and stuff, I think, so the chance that we'll get to set anything off is unlikely."

"That is alright, I would be delighted just to see the fireworks; I do not have to set some off to enjoy myself," not to mention, the Russian did not trust either himself or the Australian to set off something as dangerous as fireworks without hurting someone or something. And what if Natalya was able to find them by the explosions...? There goes the Happy New Year...

"Anyway, are you planning to stay up for Christmas Eve?"

Ivan blinked in surprise and turned to look at the Australian. Ah, Natalya could be ever so distracting. (And that was not meant in a positive light...)

"Considering that I did not even remember that you celebrated Christmas tomorrow, no, not exactly. I would be glad to do it however if you want to."

"No, no. I mean, I can't force you to; you don't even celebrate Christmas tomorrow! I can't make you stay up."

"Oh, but I insist! The point of Christmas is to spend time together with friends and family, да? It would be defeating the point if I did not stay up with you."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Well, alright then. But know that midnight isn't until three hours. What do you wanna do to fill up the time?"

Ivan could think of plenty of things to fill up the time, but none of them were exactly PG rated. He was sure that the tips of his ears were bright red! Spending time with Francis wasn't exactly a healthy hobby. Sometimes he wondered why he did it. (Not to mention why Francis hung out with him in the first place. Maybe it had somethingto do with getting closer to Yao. Steve cringed at his darkening expression.) A few minutes passed and when Ivan finally decided that any ideas he had would not end well, he shrugged. Steve cracked a smile.

"Well," Steve began, "I want to be friends, but I have to admit, I don't know anything about you other than what you told me just now. Um, you're European right? That's all I really know, so I'm kind of feeling like a pathetic friend."

Friend. Ivan wasn't sure if he could ever get over the giddiness he felt when hearing that word. He overcame his giddiness for the moment when he realized what the Australian had just said.

"Нет, I am not European."

"Oh," said Steve, confusion lacing his voice, "but you're in Europe, right?"

"Да, but most of Россия is located in Asia."

"So... you're Asian?"

"Нет, I am simply Russian. Is that not enough?"

Steve narrowed his eyes, thinkinghard (for what, Ivan could not be sure) and just when Ivan was sure that steam would start risingfrom his ears the Australian shrugged. "Fair enough. Okay, so it turns out I really didn't know anything about you. I feel like even more of a douchebag."

At this, Ivan looked a bit upset. "I am sorry, I did not mean to-"

"Relax, mate," Steve laughed, clapping a hand on the Russian's back. "I was just messin' with ya. You wouldn't mind if I sat here with you, would you?"

"Нет," Ivan shook his head vigorously, "not at all!"

The brunet grinned and pulled out a seat from across the silver-haired man. He absently noted how worn the wood of the table was, and for the first time he noticed how large and... _empty _it was. He wanted to ask the question that had been nagging him since he first entered the house - why was everything so big, big enough to fit dozens of people, when Ivan was the only one occupying the house - but one look at the Russian made him decide against it. He, too, was looking at the rest of the table, but the look in his eyes was distant, a bitter smile adorning his face at the memories that the cracks and stains on the table represented. Steve averted his eyes and cleared his throat. He wouldn't ask now. He'd wait until Ivan felt like telling him.

"So," he began, bringing the Russian's attention to him. "Why have you got Ikea chairs even though your table is totally not?"

Ivan smiled a little. "Финляндия tried to get me to buy the furniture of Швеция some years after he left my house. I told him no, but for the following Christmases after he first proposed the idea, he sent me IKEA furniture until I finally started using it. Afterwards, he only sent me either coal, cheap vodka or a dying sunflower. I do not think he ever meant for the sunflower to be dying, though. I do not think he likes me very much."

Steve scrunched up his nose a little bit. Only then did Ivan notice that the Australian wore a band-aid with Batman on it, and it crinkled a little when the Australian scrunched up his nose. In that moment, Ivan also noticed that the brunet had a light splattering of freckles across his face, and it (strangely, Ivan thought) became more obvious when his face reddened. Ivan found it endearing. Then he realized that Steve was turning red because he had been staring at him intensely for the past few minutes without saying a word. They both coughed before Steve continued, "So, uh. Who is this... er, Finland, is it? Who is he anyway? If he doesn't like you, why does he give you presents?"

Well. Ivan was tryingto stop comparinghis guest to others, but it was becoming an increasingly difficult task when the brunet kept doingthings that others did - Alfred, in particular, of course. Had neither of them seen a world map before? Did ignorance run in the family or something? (Arthur seemed perfectly fine, though...) Hadn't Steve ever stayed up at night to see Santa? He certainly seemed the type. Well, Alfred seemed the type. Ivan really had to stop ciomparing Steve to the American. Maybe Tino never visited Australia? But he delivered gifts even to Ivan and heck, he visited _Antarctica, _so surely...?

In the end, Ivan didn't know whether to say, 'a man who used to live with me', 'a country... in Europe!' or 'Santa Claus', so he settled for a shrug, smiling, "It does not matter, да?"

Steve never tried to bring it up again.

"Oh!" Steve suddenly exclaimed, surprising Ivan enough to jump in his seat. "You mentioned that this Finland guy gave you sunflowers or somethin'. How come?"

"Ah..." Had Ivan said such a thing? Well, he must have, otherwise there was no way that the Australian would ever have brought it up. Why did he feel so embarrassed all of a sudden? Maybe it wasn't so much being embarrassed as the feeling of his heart fluttering at the mention of the sunflowers.

"I... I really like sunflowers..." Ivan all but mumbled, leaving the Aussie to strain his ears and guess what he said.

"You like them? Is that what you want for Christmas?"

"Да, it is something that I want for Christmas, but it is not only that. I..."

Ivan had just suddenly started spilling everything out like a broken faucet, but now he stopped to consider what he was saying. Was he sure that he wanted to tell him this? He had never told anyone before in fear of being made fun of, and he never tried to express it to his sisters as a child, knowing that he was not the only one longing for an escape from their icy prison. Only once, had he told someone, but chances were that they remembered it as little more than a dream. But the circumstances were different now, and... Ivan looked up into Steve's curious green eyes. The Australian was his friend, wasn't he? Sure, the brunet liked to joke around a lot, but surely he would not tease the Russian on something he felt so strongly about?

"It is... it is my dream to live in a warm place, surrounded by sunflowers. Winters in Russia are cold and harsh, and I have gotten used to it over the years, but the truth is, I hate the cold. It is always so lonely and so dull..."

Steve stared at the Russian's reddening face across the table silently, looking slightly confused as to why the Russian was so embarrassed in the first place. Francis liked roses, and in his opinion, they were a hella lot more girly than sunflowers could ever hope to be.

"That's pretty cool. My dream isn't nearly as half as awesome as yours, man."

"You do not think it is strange?" asked Ivan curiously, looking up at the Australian. Steve raised a thick brow.

"Why would I think it's strange?"

"People think that it is strange for a person like me to wish for such a thing..."

"Well, mate, I don't think it's weird," Steve said, crossing his arms as if in defiance. "Anyone would wish for something like that. I mean, especially if you live in a place as cold as yours for a long time. I think I'd go insane if I had to live here! N-No offense, of course."

Ivan laughed a little. "Нет, I understand. I would go crazy, too."

"Then, come to my place for New Year's, like I said! I'm not sure about us having sunflower fields in Australia or whatever, but is is real warm! I mean, of course you can't live there, but you could come over any time you want!"

Ivan was overwhelmed. Were all Australians so straightforward and... nice? Was he doing this out of sheer politeness, or pity? No, Toris was polite, but he certainly would not invite Ivan into his home, and as for pity... the look in Steve's eyes was anything but. They burned with the intense heat of the scorching Australian deserts; how could he mistake that for pity? By the time Steve had finished his short speech, the Australian was standing tall, holdinghis hands again witha firm grip. But this time, Steve held them with a tenderness that he only remembered his dearest sister Yekaterina having, when she held his hand through the cold years they endured.

"Да. Спасибо, мой другь."

"You know, I can't understand a bloody word you're sayin' there, mate."

"Да. And, 'you know', you have no sense of personal space."

At this, Steve quickly backed up, face redder than Uluru on a sunset. "S-Sorry, mate."

Ivan cracked a smile. "I was just joking, да?"

Steve laughed, and Ivan laughed with him. But no matter how much the two thought that they could honestly stay up the entire night, they found their eyelids becoming heavy and their minds becoming hazy, and, Steve noted, looking at the small clock that hung on the wall behind Ivan, the two had just less than an hour left before midnight struck. On any regular day, they would have been able to stay up till... heck, they could have stayed up for a week straight! But what with recent happenings and the fact that, well, it was almost New Year and pretty much everyone was busy, they were already beginning to feel sluggish.

Steve raised an arm to scratch at the band-aid on his nose, but found that his arm felt like lead, so he quickly dropped it.

Was it their minds that were tired, or just their eyes? Was there even a difference? Steve didn't know, and that was probably the first sign that he was getting sleepy, but hey, those aren't the kind of things you remember when you're feeling drowsy. The Australian quickly shook his head an kept talking in an effort to stay awake.

"I know that this is totally random, but I can't help but feel that those last moments were incredibly sappy. Sorry if I made you feel like a total chick."

"I am not a 'chick', as you call it," Ivan frowned, rubbing his eyes softly after a great deal of will power. Now even his hands would not obey him. Maybe his age was getting to him...

"That's what I'm saying. Sorry If I made you feel like one."

"Да, да."

Then Ivan paused to think for a moment.

"You said that your dream was not... half as 'awesome' as mine. Then, may I ask, what is your dream?"

"Ah. That. Well, to be honest," said Steve, scratching his head in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. "I don't really have a dream. Well, I mean, I kinda do. But it doesn't really count, I think."

'Nonsense! Everyone has a dream," Ivan protested, leaning forward enough over the table to tip his chair. "No matter how big or how small. What is your dream, да?"

Steve's hand dropped from the back of his head. Hopefully, the head-scratching was not a habit. Ivan had seen enough of it happening with Kiku. "I just wanna live a good life, y'know? I wanna give my people what's best and stuff, and I want them to live good lives and stuff too."

To Steve's slight horror, at this, Ivan looked ashamed, his eyes downcast and his pale lips pursed. Had he said the wrong thing?

"I do not understand why you do not think you have an 'awesome' dream. You think of your people in your dream. Your country. I think only of myself. I think that is very... heroic of you. I do not think that is the word, but... it is the closest that I can think of. My dream is... selfish."

Steve wasn't sure what to say to this. Every time he tried to say something, it felt as if he were going to step on a landmine. It wasn't as if he liked making things awkward! He hated how their conversations hit bumps, and Ivan would get all depressed, and then it was Steve's fault! So much for being heroic. Anyway, it wasn't as if he liked making people sad! He didn't know how to deal with sad people! He felt as if he had to say something, before things got too awkward and Ivan tried to lock himself up or kick Steve out or something...

"By the way..."

To Steve's surprise, Ivan spoke first.

"Where is your... erm, koala?"

"Ah, Bob?"

"Bob?"

"Yeah, Bob!" Steve grinned, and Ivan couldn't help but think that it was as if the Aussie's entire _being _suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree! Speaking of which, he did not have one.. "My koala. He couldn't stand the cold, so I left him back home with Wy. Silly girl thinks she's a nation 'n all that."

Ivan raised a silver brow. "You can keep koalas as pets? Do you have many pets?"

Steve's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head, succeeding in making his hair ten times messier than usual. "What? No, no! He ain't my pet! Bob's my friend! And yeah, I have lotsa friends! Not all koalas, of course! I've got kangaroos, wombats, echidnas, platypi... platypuses... platy... whatever! And kookaburras, and emus, and Tassie devils! There's a whole load more, too!"

Ivan blinked slowly. Wait, so if his animals were friends, did that mean Ivan was put in the same category as animals...? He shook the thought from his head and remarked, somewhat thoughtlessly, "...were half of those even real animals?"

The Australian looked at the Russian in outright horror. Maybe there was some kind of disorder where you couldn't help but to compare people, but the best way to describe his face at the moment was that it was similar to when Ivan had told Alfred that Tetris originated in Russia.

"Of course they are! Kangaroos, wallabies, koalas... the whole lot of 'em are marsupials! Basically, they're mammals with pouches 'n most of 'em are endemic to Australia! And we also have monotremes! The only species in the world are the platypuses and echidnas, and you can find 'em down under! We've got crocs and eagles and a lotta reptiles, too!"

Ivan took a moment to soak in all of this information, and even then the Australian was still grinning from ear to ear. Ivan ended up smiling a little, too. "You seem very keen on animals."

Ivan thought he had seen the brightest smile in the entire universe the day Steve sat next to him, but the brunet proved him wrong by smiling _even brighter_. He recalled the Soviet factory that once made sunglasses that blocked out the sun and he sorely wished he still had a pair. "Am I ever? Animals are totally awesome, mate! Y'know, there was once this guy, from Australia..."

Steve was still smiling, but his smile no longer illuminated the room, and Ivan could not help but feel that his expression had taken on a morose quality. "...he died a while back. The guy wrestled with crocs, but was done in by a stingray. Ironic, eh?"

Awkwardly, Ivan placed a hand on the Australian's shoulder in an attempt to console him, but quickly flinched away when Steve's head snapped up, thinking he had done something wrong. Steve only smiled.

"Dude, it's Christmas, but we always manage to go back to being depressing. It's like, some kinda disease or somethin'. We're supposed to like, celebrate and stuff! By the way, I was thinking that we could go outside in the snow tomorrow?"

In unison, the two shot a dubious look outside the window, which creaked sadly at them from the abuse it endured from the harsh winds pounding against it and the cold ice trying to impale it. They could feel its pain.

"...maybe when that storm dies down. Um. So, do you have any Christmas wishes?"

"There is such a thing?"

Steve chewed on his lip. "Well, we wish for presents for Christmas, so we could wish for anything iin general, right? Well, alright then, Christmas wishes or New Year's wishes."

Ivan stared down at his hands. Why was it that people looked at their hands when nervous or in thought? Ah, but that was beside the point. Something that he wished for...

He looked up again, and hesitantly continued.

"I suppose... I wish to have more friends. I wish for my sisters to be happy. That is all I wish for the New Year."

"Awesomesauce. If you wish hard enough, your wish can come true."

"Да. I only wish taht it was as simple as that for a wish to come true," then Ivan paused to let out a long yawn, slumping against the table.

"Don't think so negatively dude. Anyway, I think we should call it a night."

Ivan forced his body to turn, and when it refused and protested with a loud crack and lots of pain, he instead craned his neck around _very _slowly to look at the clock. The Russian was sure that if he moved any faster, his head would roll off his shoulders.

"...but we have twenty minutes?"

With spectacular effort, Steve managed to pull the corners of his lips upward to form the slightest semblance of a grin.

"S'ok. We're both obviously too tired to stay up. I think we've asked the same questions about ten times already. Wait, that might'vebeen me. Anyway, we've got tomorrow, don't we? Let's just go to sleep."

"...Да, then."

They both rose from their seats at painfully slow rates, Steve stretching his arms in a yawn while following Ivan out of the room, bothtoo tired to even raise their feet off the ground properly, instead dragging their boots around and creating a cacophony of screeching skewered chipmunk as their shoes were forcefully pulled over the wooden floors. Their tired brains blessfully tuned it out.

Abruptly, Ivan stopped at the door, leaving Steve to wonder, 'when did this squishy wall get here?' The Russian turned around, and it took a moment for his addled brain to remember what he was supposed to say. Yes, it was very important, but wasn't it usually the important things you forgot when you're sleepy?

"As I said earlier, I have not yet begun preparing, which means... which means you have no room."

It did not go unnoticed by the two that Ivan's accent got stronger as he became more drowsy, but they decided to ignore it. Bringing it up was too much work, anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if the Aussie's accent wasn't getting worse and worse by the second... goodbye, letter R...

"...you said that?"

Ivan shrugged helplessly, almost knocking the Aussie back in the process. "Maybe, да? Point is, you do not have place to sleep. There no couch."

"Bu' then ah won' 'ave anywhe'ah ta sleep..."

Ivan turned around fully to face the Australian, straining his ears and eyes as if he didn't know whether the man standing in front of him was really human, or if he was some kind of alien whose disguise was slipping. Was he even speaking English anymore? Perhaps garbled Russian? Whatever the case, the alien really needed a better disguise...

"That not true, да? We share bed, да?"

Well, either Steve was too far off in la la land to have any shred of sense left or he was just plain stupid (both options were very probable), otherwise he wouldn't have agreed without a second thought.

"Sure, sure, wha'evah, jus' show me tha' way, mate."

Without another second to waste, Ivan grabbed Steve's arm and led him down the hall and up the stairs. Of course, in his haste, the two ended up tripping and stumbling over thin air more times than they cared to count at the moment, but their temporary apathy also meant that they did not care that they were falling over like a pair of drunkards. They probably wouldn't care if Alfred was in the house taking photos for blackmail...

The strong wind battered noisily against the aged windows, the pair's creaky footsteps echoing in the large, silent halls, but on they walked, until they finally reached a door left slightly ajar. Steve found the room inside to be surprisingly empty. Wait, why surprisingly? What exactly had he been expecting? A war zone littered with broken vodka bottles and firearms on a floor with holes in it, or for there to be blood strewn across the room for it to look like a torture chamber? (He fancied even a cave, or whatever it was that bears slept in, but if he ever told the Russian that he was sure that Ivan would bash his brains in.)

Well, his first ideas of the room were not all that far off the mark. In his sleepy state, he failed to see the various vodka bottles scattered on the floor, some half full and others completely empty, and he ended up tripping over one of the bottles, sending both men hurtling towards the bed in the corner of the room, barely avoiding the bulky desk positioned next to it. Neither tried to get back up. All they could think of at the moment was, 'mm, squishy'.

A comfortable silence enveloped the two, but before either could slip out of consciousness, Ivan whispered, a hint of guilt in his voice, "I am sorry we could not stay up for Christmas."

"S'awright. 'M sorry fer makin' ya celebrate Christmas 'n a diff'rent day," Steve mumbled back, turning his head slowly towards the Russian. A sleepy smile worked its way onto Ivan's face.

"Всё хорошо. It is what friends are for, да?"

Steve took a moment to yawn and process what the Russian just said, registering the Russian words as 'fuzzy cars are sure', and he spoke up only when they were dangerously close to drifting off again.

"I... don't think you're selfish."

Ivan's violet eyes widened (well, as much as they could in his current state), and had the Aussie not been as sleepy, he would have thought he saw the Russian's lip warble a bit, or he would have thought that Ivan had lost his ability to swallow, what withthe trail of saliva running down onto the matress. A moment of muffled breathing later, Steve began to mumble again.

"Ev'ryone wishes... fer tha' sorta thing. 't doesn't make ya any more selfish than 'nyone else. Hell, mate, I wish fer tha' sorta thing too. Y'gotta... stop thinkin' so badly 'f yerself."

Eh, Ivan's lip was definitely warbling now. Steve swore that he say tears in his eyes, but then again, he might just be falling asleep. The guy must've been more out of it than he originally thought.

"By th' way, y'know... y'know how ya said tha' you wan'ed more friends? I think ya will, big guy. B... bu' first... we gotta get suh... some sleep..."

At this point all Ivan could do was make a grunt of agreement. The Aussie smiled, and finally, silence returned, allowing the two to drift off into a sleep of sweet dreams. Slowly, the wind began to die down, whatever remnants of it carrying the toll of the bell signaling midnight.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in through the frosted windows, last night's storm having whittled away into nothing more than a few haughty winds that refused to give up, only barely rustling the snow-covered trees with their vain attempts. Had the window been there last night? Well, it was too dark to see it anyway, not to mention that the two sole occupants of the house (no, even insects did not dare to approach the house in fear of its terrifying master. That, or they all died from the cold) were the sleepy-equivalent to totally wasted, which was kind of embarrassing. Speaking of which...

Steve woke up by himself that morning.

Well, that was just fine and dandy, I mean, after all, back home he'd wake up alone, right? No, he didn't! Even back at home, he never woke up alone! I mean, waking up to wallaroos jumping on your stomach and funnelwebs trying to get in under the door counted as having company, right? Either way, Steve wasn't used to being in a large, unfamiliar room in a foreign country that was so quiet and lifeless. And anyway, how would he get home if Ivan ditched him? He was amazed that he was even able to get out of the airport in one piece! He didn't even read Cyrillic, or speak Russian! If it weren't for that busty woman with...

Wait a second! Ivan ditched him!

Steve whimpered. How could he have left him lonered like that? Did he suddenly decide that Steve was a weirdo and he didn't want to be his friend? Alright, so admittedly, he was acting kind of lame last night, but stilL! Oh, no, Ivan wasn't planning to kill him, was he? Was it all a ploy, some kinda trap from the beginning? And to think, it was Christmas!

...wait, it's Christmas!

Excited, he threw off the blankets in a flash (since when did those get there?), almost tripping over himself in his haste to get to the window. Words seemed to fail him the moment he set his eyes upon the wintery landscape outside, everything in sight blanketed with snow, the only thing providing contrast being sky blue to the blinding white. Sure, it had been snowing last night, but at that time all he could think of was how to get out of it, and to be fair, he was stuck in the beginnings of a snowstorm. But now, the chaos had passed, and all was calm, giving the white snow an innocence it previously did not possess.

Looking outside the window, it almost felt like a dream, and only now did it finally kick into Steve's thick head that he was, indeed, in Russia, in Ivan's house. He did get snow at home, but not like this; there was never this much snow at his place.

...if he was at Ivan's house, then where was Ivan?

"Доброе утро, мой другь!"

Steve almost jumped out of his skin at the suddenness of Ivan's voice singing in from the doorway. Darn it, why didn't that door make any noise? Didn't all old doors creak and stuff? Anyway, Ivan was terribly good at sneaking up on people. He would've made for a good burglar. Or maybe not? If the house was small enough, maybe Ivan wouldn't be able to fit throught the window or door or air vent or whatever...

(Again, he would never mention these thoughts to the Russian's face. He'd likely die of ways so unimaginable only Tony or Gilbird - or worse, Tony _and _Gilbird - could think of it.)

"You scared me there, buddy," Steve finally coughed out, letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Where were ya, anyway?"

Ivan smiled apologetically, giggling a little. Well, someone sure was in a good mood today. Ivan didn't really seem like a morning person - more like the type to wake up with a raging hangover... he really had to stop thinking such suicidal thoughts. Somewhere around the world, Raivis shuddered.

"I am sorry, да?" Ivan said, and only then did Steve noticed that the Russian was holding something. "I woke up early and thought you might still be suffering jet lag, so I did not want to wake you. I made breakfast, however."

No way... pancakes and a whole load of syrup and bacon? Ivan would've made the best wife ever! ...er, I mean-

"Sweet!" the Aussie crowed, quickly rising from the floor (no, he had not fallen because he was surprised, he had fallen because he was still too overwhelmed by the snow and stuff, of course!) to practically fly towards Ivan, as eager as Alfred with his ice cream. "This is totally awesome, man!"

"Да. I had leftover pancake mix from when Матвей visited my house."

The Australian faltered. "Ah... who's Matvey?"

Ivan's brows furrowed. Matvey? He couldn't recall the name. It must have slipped out by accident. "I haven't a clue.

"Anyway, you should eat now, да? The sooner you eat, the sooner we can go outside. Also, it is almost noon, so this is more like lunch than breakfast. But do not fear, товарищ, for the food is still quite warm despite the cold weather."

Steve's eyebrows shot up (Ivan suddenly understood what that American blabbered about concerning migrating caterpillars), "Whoa, mate! Ya shoulda woken me up earlier! 'S already the arvo!"

"Arvo?" Ivan looked painfully ocnfused. Australian slang was just as... ah, what was it? Mind-boggling as American slang.

"Yeah, the arvo! Anyway, quick, pass me the food so we can go! By the way, have you eaten yet?"

Ivan ended up sitting down on the bed with Steve and eating some of the pancakes, even though he'd already eaten (vodka counted as eating, did it not?) earlier. Damn that enticing maple syrup. Damn it all to his stomach. The Australian's puppy dog eyes certainly did not have anything to do with the turn of events.

"So yeah, I'm done now."

That wasn't possible! All of the pancakes were right there a seconds ago... Ivan looked down at the plate on Steve's lap. The porcelain was clean and even sparkly. He looked back up. Steve burped loudly, before letting out a nervous giggle. Maybe it was possible. Perhaps certain things did run through the family. The Russian suddenly felt a distinct lack of appetite and he subtly pushed the plate away.

"C'mon, let's go!" Steve all but yelled excitedly, literally leaping off the bed as he made a run for the corridor but he suddenly felt something vise-like take hold of his shoulder and he (in a manly manner, I tell you!) shrieked, falling face-first. Groaning, he turned his head slightly to see that Ivan hadn't even offered so much as a wince of sympathy. Maybe it had to do withmonster vodka running through his veins.

"You can not go outside now! That would be suicide!"

Steve's lips (since when did they feel so cold?) curved downwards into a frown (frown, not a pout), and he looked outside the window.

"But there ain't even a storm!"

"That much is true, да. What I mean is, you can not go outside the way you are now."

The Aussie's lower lip jutted out even more. He really, _really _wanted to go into the snow, damn it!

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm perfectly fine!"

"No, you are not! Look at the way you are dressed, да? Your teeth are chattering, and you even have... oh, говно́, what was it? You have goosebumps on your thighs!"

Did he seriously just say that? Steve raised a thick eyebrow at the slightly reddening Russian, his look clearly saying, 'why are you looking at my thighs?' Then came a sudden realization. Why could he even _see _his thighs?

The Aussie looked down (huh, so his teeth were chattering) to find that he was dressed in nothing more than his singlet and his boxers. Funny; he couldn't remember taking off his clothes last night. Where were his clothes anyway?

"Then what do I hafta do to go outside? 'S not like I have a change of clothes; I kinda came over in a rush 'n I didn't pack anything 'cept my wallet."

Ivan pressed a finger to his lips, looking upwards thoughtfully. How come Ivan's lips weren't cracked and they were all moist and stuff? Wasn't he feeling cold or anything? The guy wasn't even shivering! I mean sure, he's used to this sort of thing, but still! Steve was used to his own scalding summers, but he still sweated bullets every time they came around!

...wait a second. Steve was staring at his lips!

"I could let you borrow my clothes, да? They are much more suited to this weather."

...alright, so this was getting a bit weird, even for Steve. He had no qualms about sharing clothes and food and whatnot but he only got to know this guy for like... a day. And Ivan didn't have to tell him that the clothes would be too big; one look at the Russian was enough to tell him that his clothes would never, ever fit. But the snow... the _snow..._

"Oh, bugger. Alright," Steve finally managed to grumble out. He could totally walk out into that snow in his boxers if he wanted to. It's just that he was too awesome for the snow so it'd probably melt the moment he graced it with his presence.

Ivan beamed at him, before excusing himself from the room to find something small enough for the Aussie to wear. Didn't you keep all your clothes somewhere in your room? Like, a really small closet or something? Well, the Russian probably owned a separate _room _for his clothes. It wasn't that much of a stretch, considering the size of his house. (It wasn't like he could blame Ivan for not using a closet. He'd had his own doubts about them when Arthur started babbling on about Narnia and how he'd 'accidentally' pushed Alfred in.)

"I'm back, да?"

Well, that was bloody fast.

"You do not expect the clothes to magically appear on you, да? Take them, I promise I will not look."

Steve's face flushed as red as his fireworks. It wasn't like he was a chick or something! How embarrassing, damn it! The Russian even looked like he was laughing at him! He was _so_ not going to stand for that!

"I-It's alright! We're all guys here, right? It doesn't matter!"

Ivan only raised a singly silvery brow, a bemused smile present on his face. Steve thought he had won, and obviously didn't expect the words he had coming for him.

"So you are wanting me to look at you, да?"

"Wha- that's- no, that's not...!"

Ivan giggled. Oh, how fun it was to tease the silly Australian!

"I was only teasing, Comrade! You have the most interesting reactions!"

Steve was most certainly not pouting. Grown men did not pout. Especially grown men who were more than a century old. Anyway, it wasn't like he had a reason to be pouting! Sure, Ivan was teasinghim, but like he said, it was only a joke! Nothing to get worked up over! It wasn't even as if he was disappointed. Why would he be disappointed? Ivan was going on about watching him dress, so it wasn't as if he had wanted the Russian to look at him...!

...damn it, he needed to hurry up and change before the snow melted.

"Fine, whatever, just toss over the clothes, would ya? Please."

Ivan complied and threw over a bundle of clothes that felt strangely heavy. Sending surreptitious glances to the Russian nation, who only smiled cluelesslyin return, he held up the garments in full view, dropping one of them (embarrassingly, he thought, seeingIvan's lips quirk up) in the process. The article of clothinghe held in his hands was none other than a large coat meant to reach midwayon the calf. On him, however, it would no doubt reach past his ankles and try to trip him over or something. It was exceptionally thick, not to mention warm. In contrast to the snow outside, the coat was of the darkest black.

Lying on the floor in its lonesome was a pair of pants, looking just as thick as the coat. It was of a color not too different to Ivan's coat (had he been wearing that since yesterday?). Both of the pieces of clothing he was given seemed fairly old, and although larger than himself, they did not seem big enough to fit the Russian. Ivan seemed to notice what he was thinking (no doubt his face having something to do with it, casting expressions without his knowing) and he beat him to asking by speaking first.

"Those are my old clothes. I grew out of them rather quickly, so they have been worn only a few times," Ivan said with a smile. Steve briefly wondered if his idea of a few times and Ivan's idea of a few times were the same. Judging from how Ivan described a 'few' vodka bottles (or, at least, how others described Ivan's idea of a few vodka bottles), most probably not.

Sending one more suspicious look to the Russian, who was still smiling, Steve sighed melodramatically before finally taking off his shirt. Glancing back up at the Russian (one couldn't be too sure), his lips curled the slightest bit downward as he abruptly turned so that his back was facing Ivan.

For a moment, Ivan wondered why in the world Steve was taking off his undershirt, then he decided that he didn't mind; after all, he was getting a free show, wasn't he? Not so much to say that he wanted to look, that is, but more that he had nothing else to look at in the first place. His room _was _rather empty, after all.

The Australian was fairly tanned - to be expected of such a hot nation (not in that way!) - but upon taking off his white singlet, Ivan noticed that Steve had a slight farmer's tan. He chuckled before he could stop himself, and he quickly averted his eyes before the Aussie turned around. The rustling of clothing stopped, but one accusatory glance later the Australian resumed his movements.

When he was sure that Steve was not looking, Ivan chanced another look. The brunet had well-developed muscles that rippled as he stretched, and the man did not have nearly as many scars as Ivan himself had (he did, however, have an insane number of scratches and bites that he suspected belonged to either a koala or a snake... or maybe both).

On his limbs lay a fairly thick layer of brown hair, but before Ivan could decide exactly how much hair the Aussie had on his body, his limbs and torso were quickly covered up by the black coat he lent to him. Ivan cursed the coat. It would rue the day it blocked his view!

"Uh... dude? You sure you don't got anything smaller?"

This time, Ivan didn't even try to hold in his uproarious laughter. Steve was not amused.

"Uh, not cool mate! Not cool at all!"

Well, it mightn't have been cool except in one sense of the word, but it certainly was _cute. _It was a strange word to apply to a full grown man, Ivan thought, but Steve wasn't exactly helping his case with his frustrated pout and flushed face, fingers curled around the hem of the coat that pooled around his feet, raising it as high as Ivan's brows when the Russian realized that he could see the Aussie's thighs.

Steve seemed to notice where Ivan's thoughts were going, however, and he practically threw down the edge of the coat with an embarrassed scowl.

"Is this all you really have?" Steve finally asked, hasty to break the awkward (well, at least for him) silence. Ivan was going to say that he did indeed have another coat that would probably fit the Australian better, but that would defeat the point!

"Нет, I do not have anything smaller."

Steve's stare was distrustful. They both knew that what Ivan said was complete and utter bullshit, but neither said anything. Steve's reason being the fear of maybe having to walk outside _without _a coat...

Ivan found himself suddenly pulled into a staring contest with the green-eyed nation, and for a while, all was silent. Nothing interrupts Mother Russia in a staring contest. Steve's gaze was unwavering, but Ivan would not allow himself to be the first to look away or blink or laugh. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile. Was he losing his touch? To his delight, despite his minor slip-up, Steve backed down first. Never would the Russian ever so much as suspect that his 'slip-up' was the reason Steve averted his eyes in the first place. Seriously, Ivan had to be lying when he said he wasn't trying to be scary...

"Yeah, well, don't expect me to walk outside, mate. I'll end up crawling for sure," Steve grumbled, pulling the over-sized pants over his hips and rolling up the waistband.

"That can be taken care of, да?"

Before the Aussie could even protest, the Russian hooked his arms under the other man's knees and back and hauled him into the air, high enough to effectively prevent any argument against 'the slander of Steve's masculinity'. (Ivan wasn't sure why he thought of those words exactly, but it seemed like something that the Aussie would have said. It might've had something to do with the fact that the Aussie was mouthing something that looked like it, but not a word escaped his lips.)

Steve whimpered.

The Braginski only laughed in response, walking out the door without another word. His footsteps resounded in the halls as he descended the stairs, and Steve wondered why the Russian was making so much noise. Well, not so much why as _how_. I mean, sure, Ivan was a big guy, but surely you could not make so much noise barefoot? Wait, was he actually barefoot...? No...! He wasn't! The bastard was wearing his boots already! The Aussie struggled to look at his own feet while being juggled by the Russian, and he thought despairingly, that his feet were in fact naked and looking no bluer than his flag.

"Dude, Russia, quick! Put me down!"

Ivan laughed and opened the door.

"Ivan!"

The sudden use of his name made the Russian drop his companion. Slowly, he looked down at Steve, who was (quite unceremoniously, might he add, although maybe the word erotically or teasingly could be applied...) rubbing his rear, complaining about how cold the front steps were. It had been so long since he had been called by his human name. To hear his name from the Australian made him feel... strangely happy. That he felt so excited at the simple use of his name made him feel like such a girl, but it was a feeling he could not deny. A feeling that he didn't want to deny. With just simple words and the call of his name, he felt so close, like he could actually connect with the other man. As if he was valued, was actually worth something, as if he were _alive_.

Before Steve could stand to save himself from an icy, frostbite-y death at the hands of General Winter, he found himself entrapped in arms squeezing him tightly enough to ensure a death quicker but not necessarily less painful than his other option. Steve sorely missed the cold ground, not to mention oxygen...

"Mate! Blimey...! Ivan! You're warmin' me up here pretty well, mate, but it's my feet doin' the freezing, not the rest of my body...!"

Ivan laughed a laugh that was in no way apologetic as he said, "Sorry!"

Then, setting down the shorter man, he said, slowly and deliberately, making sure to savor that one syllable, "Steve."

That alone made Steve turn a shade of red that would put the Soviet Union to shame for reasons beyond him.

'I think I just had an arrhythmia, do you think I had an arrhythmia?' he asked himself, before mentally slapping himself for asking himself such a stupid question. He had to be going insane to be embarrassed by such a simple thing!

With still shaking arms (they shook from the cold! THE COLD!), he weakly pushed at the taller nation's chest, mumbling, "It's too darned early for all this crap. I need damn shoes so we can hurry up and go outside!"

And so, one pair of boots later (a pair of boots that Steve could proudly say belonged to him), the two found themselves suddenly in the middle of a sheet of snow. Well, Ivan suddenly found himself there, having been dragged outside by the hyperactive Australian the second his feet were shoved into his boots. Ivan wasn't about to tell Steve that he had been holding the Russian's hand in the process of dragging him outside, and still had his fingers tangled in his own.

Suddenly, Steve stopped walking and turned to address the Russian.

"Wait a second, how did you know my name?"

Ah, of course. It wasn't often that nations went around telling other nations their human names. Steve's concerns were entirely justified. It wasn't as if he had told Ivan what his name was. Ivan only smiled, and replied with a small giggle,

"Oh, I make it a point to know everyone's name, да?"

Steve thought he felt the tip of his nose completely freeze up into ice.

"Say, мой другь. How do you know _my _name?"

Forget what Steve said earlier about his nose freezing up. Rudolph was probably throwing a jealous fit by now and the mere color of his ears would probably attract more attention than the ears of an elf. If Steve thought he'd get away from his slip-up, he was dead wrong.

"I, well, I, uh..." Steve tried his darned well best not to stutter, but discovered that spitting out the words was much more embarrassing than just thinking them. It would be over in like five seconds, like ripping off a band-aid! A band-aid that hid Natalya-like tendencies and the potential end to his dignity, but hey, he didn't become a stable nation by being too scared to face a little pain and leaving all the decisions to everyone else! (Steve pointedly ignored his inner!Arthur tutting about him not taking odd 'that silly plaster of yours, oh by the way my Queen totally owns your country'. I mean, what on Earth is with that plaster business?)

Oh, come off it, Steve! It's just one sentence and it was just seconds wasted in getting to play in the snow!

"To be honest, I actually did kinda ask around for your name. This one chick I asked went all spaz-o at me and tried to kill me with a knife and shouting nonsense about me touching 'her Vanya'. Uh, I'm guessing that's you? But this other guy seemed a bit more, you know, sane, and he was full trembling and all that but he told me anyway that your name was Ivan, so I asked the shorter kid that was trembling even more than him and he said so too, then this one guy full freaks and is like, 'don't go around telling people' but personally I think he was just jealous 'cause they were bein' full harry and that about knowin' yer name, and..."

Steve winced. That was like, an entire essay!

"...I'll shut up now."

Ivan only looked amused at the Australian's random rant. So Steve had known a bit about him after all? He thought for sure that Steve's knowledge of his existence only extended to brief glances during meetings and whatnot, but it appeared that Steve had known more. How precious, asking around to know more about him! But, ah, Ivan shouldn't get too clingy. Last time he made a friend, which happened to be a snow white rabbit (Ivan had stooped to new lows that year), he found it dead in his tight embrace. He looked up at Steve and inwardly shuddered. Being a corpse would not fit the Aussie, especially frothing from the mouth and with his ribs broken in.

"No doubt it was little Литва that told you, да? Ah, and Ваня is a... what is it again? Somehow, English is becoming harder to grasp. It is a nickname, да? A term of affection. I suppose it would only be a little strange if you used it?"

"Yeah, well, if I used Vanya," here Ivan could not help but smile a little, "you'd have to call me a nickname too, right? Well, you can't really shorten Steve... well, I guess a nickname would be Stev-o but even I think that's a bit weird if anyone said it at all. Anyway, I thought Japan said something like people who a real close don't shorten names or add stuff onto it at all?"

Ivan soured a bit at the mention of the Asian nation, but instantly brightened from hearing this. It was true, though. Kiku once commented that getting into first-name basis without using any suffixes such as -kun or -san was too personal for him (and, if he recalled correctly, it was in a rather hushed conversation with Heracles. Kiku wasn't fooling anyone.)

"We will use only our names. Nicknames only complicate the matter, да?"

"Yeah, yeah, da, da, c'mon, enough with all this girl talk, seriously. Game on!"

"Game... on?"

Before Ivan could properly ask what he meant, he sensed something steadily approaching. He turned, and before he could so much as utter, 'hi, I'm Ivan, who're you?' something wet and hard hit him in the face. Three guesses as to what it was; the first two guesses don't count, and neither does the last one if it's Francis-related.

Steve bust a gut laughing, but Ivan only stared at him confusedly. What did he expect him to do? After all, he had just thrown a pile of snow at his face. Was it a declaration of war? Steve did not really want to fight him, did he?

An awkward moment later, Steve finally managed to control his laughter, it having died down into soundless wheezes before silence huffed at the rude interruption and continued on its merry old way, short-lived as it was when the few birds perched on the roof of Ivan's house tittered nervously in an attempt to drown the awkward tension.

"Uh... you're supposed to throw a snowball back."

Ivan stood uncomprehending.

"Y'know? Snowball fights? When you play in teams - or twos, I guess in this case - and throw snowballs at each other? I think there are different kinds a' rules, but let's just say that whoever can land the most hits on the other person wins. Man, I thought you were supposed to be like an expert on this stuff? I've never done this before but you make me feel as if I know more about this than you do."

Ivan decided to forgive those ending statements as he suddenly recalled a happier memory of his childhood.

"Ah, да, да! I recall having played a game similar to this with my sisters! I have not played this in a long time! Ah, well, I did something similar in WWII to drive back Германия - ah, this whole time I have been using their Russian names, forgive me - Germany but he could not really fight back... oh, well, admittedly, I also did this with... er, Amerika, but it was less for fun than to kill each other-"

"Alright buddy," Steve interrupted, heaving a relieved sigh when Ivan actually stopped and looked at him. Lord only knows how long that could have gone on for...

"The trip down memory lane can wait. The snow can't."

"But the snow lasts for months-"

"-but I'm only going to be here for today, okay? Maybe you can tell me after we play or at New Year's, but now it's time for a snowball fight! So get ready! 3... 2..."

Ivan panicked. They were already going to start? He wasn't ready! Hurriedly, he scanned the area for something to hide behind. Weren't they supposed to make forts or something first? Who was keeping count of who hit each other, anyway? Ah! There's a tree! For a moment, Ivan wondered if he ever had a tree in his front yard in the first place, but no matter. Surely all his thoughts had to be longer than a single second! Covering his face, he gingerly peered thorugh the cracks between his fingers to look at Steve, who had bent down to get some snow.

Screw hiding behind that tree! Like it would've fit him anyway! Scooping up a pile of snow, he clumsily shaped it into the closest semblance of a ball he could manage and didn't even bother to try and aim as he threw it at Steve; rather, the general direction of, as the ball landed some three feet away from the brunet. Despite the ball not landing on him, the sheer force behind it made him shriek and drop his snowball. Steve glared at him but Ivan was too busy laughing to notice.

"Oh, it's on, now!"

Steve picked up some snow and, not even bothering to try and shape it into a ball, hurled it at Ivan, who, still laughing, still managed to dodge it as it sailed past to collide with the tree. Ivan was still laughing too hard to even make a ball and instead kept running to avoid the onslaught of snowballs. Steve managed to peg a snowball at Ivan's rear, and before he could even gasp Ivan had turned an icy smile to the brunet and cheerfully threw a snowball at his crotch.

"Fffffffuuuuuuu-" Steve all but screamed, clutching at his groin, "-dging heck!"

He might not have felt the cold of the ice, but he certainly felt the force behind it. Was Ivan trying to kill him? He wouldn't be able to walk straight for days! But he had to! He raised his head up to glare at Ivan, who giggled innocently. He was so not letting the stupid Russian get away with that!

Bellowing something akin to a war cry, Steve sprang back up, almost tripping over the excesses of his (well, Ivan's) pants in the process. This time, he didn't even bother to pile up snow. No, snow couldn't properly express his anger, nor would it do the job satisfactorily.

Instead, Steve flung himself across the yard and spear tackled Ivan.

The two, a mess of tangled limbs, landed in the snow with an audible thud, the two rolling around in a small struggle before finally stopping, Steve ending up straddling the Russian beneath him. Ivan's cheeks were stained pink, still breathless from the fall, soundless laughter spilling out of his frosted lips.

For a second, all was still. All was silent. Steve suddenly found it harder to breathe, but he knew it wasn't from the fall. His heart felt like it was running a marathon to get away from him, his brain having lost control of his body. At meetings, Ivan always smiled and all that, but never did they seem as entirely genuine as the smile Ivan wore now, and never had he seen it so close. He couldn't tear his eyes away, staring mindlessly at the man below him. He wanted himself to stop being so transfixed, but at the same time he never wanted the moment to end. Since when had Steve become such a crazy old sap? And why, at that moment, did the Aussie feel like his feelings for the silver-haired man extended to something beyond friendship? He was only fooling himself if he said they were some sort of paternal instincts.

Silence had been present for some time now, but Time finally decided that the world was not big enough for the two of them and kicked Silence's ass out of the way in order to keep on going. The sounds of laughter finally spilled from Ivan's lips, the amethyst-eyed man having regained his breath in Steve's moment of timelessness. He looked about ready to cry with how much he was laughing, his eyes screwed shut as if her were being relentlessly tickled and Steve found it hard to keep a straight face.

The two ended up laughing together on the ground, the snowball fight forgotten.

By the time the two finally stopped laughing, the sun had sunk just a little lower in the sky and the two had quite forgotten why they were laughing in the first place. Well, at least Ivan had, forgetting even what he was doing outside and what exactly Steve was doing on top of him. What exactly Steve was doing _shaking _on top of him. It was rather embarrassing and it felt really awkward, but then again, wasn't the Australian looking a bit pale?

"Боже мой!"

The Russian suddenly shot up from the snow, toppling over a thoroughly startled Steve in the process. He grasped the shorter man's trembling hands in his own and pulled the Aussie off the ground.

"You are not wearing any gloves! How in the world did you pick up snow without freezing your hands off? You have to go inside!"

"Oh. Uh. Well, y'know. Excited and all that. Why wear gloves when you could use your bare hands?"

Ivan barely resisted the urge to face palm.

"Anyway, what about you! You're-"

Steve looked at the Russian's hands to support his argument, but they laughed at him, snuggled in cozy black gloves. Now his entire case was down the drain! Hello, Christmas day sentence indoors. Who the heck judged these things, anyway?

"-wearing gloves," Steve finished lamely, pouting. That his bottom lip was trembling and was making him look adorable made Ivan consider letting him play a little longer, but then again, his lip was trembling _and _blue…

"Maybe later we will go outside again," Ivan decided, "but only after you have warmed up and have gotten a pair of gloves. It would… ah, suck to be sick on Christmas and New Year's."

Still, the Australian was staring up at him defiantly, and for a second Ivan thought that he would have to drag the Aussie inside before finally the brunet sighed and conceded, "Fine."

Ivan smiled slightly, and, his hand still holding the other's, led the Australian inside. Steve was a bit amused at this reversal of roles. What must have been at least an hour ago, he was dragging the Russian out of his own house by hand and now Ivan was doing the same, except dragging him into the house. Well, of course Steve knew that he had been holding Ivan's hand, no matter what the Russian must have been thinking. It wasn't like he was an idiot, or something. I mean, sometimes, he could be obnoxious but he was being totally well behaved up until now, right? Steve had initially grabbed Ivan's hand for its warmth and, in hindsight, should have tipped him off about his hands' bareness, but his obliviousness, to a further extent than his obnoxiousness, could not be controlled.

…wait a second! Ivan was holding his hand!

"…!"

Ivan came to a sudden stop, leaving the Batman on Steve's nose to mutter about the indignity of it all. Then again, it could have been Steve, but the Aussie didn't get to ask as a heavy, _freezing _hand clamped itself over his mouth. He almost screamed (a manly scream that would shame even the most testosterone-pumped males of the Universe, mind you), but Ivan motioned him to shush, and who was Steve to deny him when he was wearing such a frightening expression? Then, turning away from the Australian, he placed his ear slowly against the door. His grip having slackened, Steve irritably pulled the Russian's hand off and also listened carefully at the door. Vaguely, he could make out sounds of… bouncing?

Before Ivan could even raise his hand to grasp the doorknob, the door was slammed open from inside. Ivan actually screeched, and Steve would have laughed at him if not for the fact that he too had screamed and both of their noses had very nearly been taken off.

"Моя сестра?"

Standing in the doorway in all of her Ukrainian glory was none other than Ivan's older sister, Yekaterina. A flash of recognition lit her eyes as she smiled, eyes set on the still shell-shocked Steve.

"You are the man that asked me for directions! I did not know that you were Australia! I thought I recognized you, but I was not sure! I am Ukraine!"

Steve finally decided to get over his shock and beamed. Of course! She was Ivan's sister! How could he have not recognized her before, what with her vast tracts of…

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve thought he saw something morbidly shiny and akin to a pipe flash before his eyes, a sliver of angry violet reflected in the metal. Ivan was glaring at him, wasn't he? If he tried to look into his eyes directly, surely he'd turn to stone. Not wanting to take any chances, the Aussie quickly averted his eyes.

"Anyway," Ivan cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and failing miserably, "what are you doing here, сестра?"

Immediately, Yekaterina looked hurt, tears welling up in her eyes and in that moment Ivan had the most panicked expression Steve had ever seen on him. If Steve hadn't known better, he would've thought that Ivan was weak against his sister…

"Do you not want me here, брат? I-I am sorry, I should have asked first, maybe I should leave!"

If Ivan looked panicked before, now he was suffering some kind of aneurysm or coronary, or perhaps both. Not that Steve could really blame him; he was totally freaking and he barely _knew _the Ukrainian. Yekaterina wasn't even trying to hold back her tears, she just let them pour like the Niagara Falls, being just as overwhelming.

"Нет!" Ivan quickly protested. If Yekaterina tried to leave now, he might not see her until the next meeting, or maybe even until the next Christmas! Did she really not want to be here? "I-It is not that, моя дорогая сестра! I-I was just surprised, that is all! As you said, you had not mentioned this to me previously! Please, stay!"

"Y-Yeah, the more the merrier!"

"See! Even Steve would like you to stay! Please! Spend Christmas with us!"

Yekaterina sniffed, wiping away a tear with a delicate finger before giving a small smile.

"O-Oh, I suppose. If you two really want me to, I can not say no! I am sorry, брат, I will warn you next time."

Ivan only released a relieved sigh, his smile a tad more tired. Steve couldn't help but wonder, was she doing this on purpose? Maybe she was secretly a sadist, liking to watch Ivan get all troubled and panicked and stuff, or as Kiku once described Ivan, 'yandere'. Two siblings, yandere siblings. He shuddered to think what Ivan's other sister was like, and from all that he'd heard of her, she was _not _good. He looked to Yekaterina, but she showed no signs of insincerity or maliciousness. Maybe she was good at hiding it?

"Well, I was not sure what to think of your relationship at the meeting, but now it seems like you two are good friends. I am glad," Yekaterina smiled, but the two men noticed that she had become even meeker, if even possible. She was being very subtle about it, but she was trying to drift away from the subject.

"Сестра … what are you hiding?" Ivan questioned nervously, eyeing his sister's fidgeting fingers. With a small squeak, Yekaterina ripped her hands away from view. The Russian looked at Steve, his gaze somewhat dubious, and Steve could only think, 'at least I'm not the only one with a sense of impending doom'.

"Ah, well…"

The men held their breath.

"…I thought that I should bring our, ah, little sister along. She wants to see you, Ваня."

Ivan bolted for the door faster than Vash's machine guns, and out of reflex and subconscious dread (not that he was frightened or anything, nope) Steve ran with him. Yekaterina seemed to have predicted this, however, and grabbed the end of Ivan's scarf, effectively bringing the giant down. Desperately, he looked up pathetically at Steve, his expression on that the Devil could not ignore. Steve only gave him a sympathetic look back.

'Nice knowin' ya, mate.'

"Please, брат, we go through this every time!" Yekaterina pleaded, but Ivan had deformed into some kind of robot caterpillar with dying batteries whose only objective was to get out the door at all costs. From his impression of the Russian at the meetings, Steve never would have expected him to be able to act so pathetic. It was rather comical, really, but it was so pathetic than when the Aussie tried to smile reassuringly, it came out as a grimace.

"It is Christmas, Ваня! Please, all these years, Natalya has been feeling so lonely, spending Christmas by herself! She even has a present for you; she made it, even though she is so sick. Please, give her a chance!"

For one (miraculous) moment, Ivan actually considered it. He had never thought of his sister being lonely during the last days of the year. He felt a tinge of guilt. Of course he knew what it was like to be alone for Christmas; he would never dream of making anyone feel the same. No one deserved to be alone for Christmas.

Then Ivan's moment ended and he concluded that he had gone mad. He made a break for the door.

What he didn't expect was Steve to be blocking the door. Steve was supposed to be his friend, the traitor! He was, no doubt, Natalya's accomplice all along! Betrayed, he glared at the Aussie and huffed childishly.

Right. So Ivan threw tantrums. Steve only smiled.

"It would suck to be sick on Christmas and New Year's, eh?"

To Ivan, Steve's smile looked like a devilish smirk. Using his own words against him – how devious! Ivan bit his lip. He could not believe that he was even entertaining the idea of being in the same building as his psychopath of a sister. It was preposterous! But, it was also Christmas, wasn't it? Shouldn't he have the Christmas spirit and all that? Not to mention, Natalya was sick, so she should be harmless, right? And if he left, she would be lonely again. This year, Ivan had the good fortune of spending Christmas with friends and family, and like Steve said, the more the merrier, right?

Ivan sighed. He would so regret this later.

"…да. Да, it would. I will stay, then."

Yekaterina's smile melted ice caps. They also melted the snow in Russia, it seemed, as Ivan's expression softened. Man, he totally had a soft spot for his sister. Steve found it hard not to smile too.

"Great! You will not regret this, Ваня! I brought you both gifts."

Steve's lips curled into a delighted grin, color returning to his cheeks.

"Really? Even for me?"

"Yes, of course! I knew you were coming. And it is alright that I do not receive presents. I came unexpected, and Christmas usually is not celebrated on this day," she added, taking in both Steve and Ivan's guilty expressions. They quickly brightened up though, Ivan secretly planning on getting his sister a better present.

"Oh, and, um, maybe this is not good to mention, but there is mistletoe above your heads. Наталя insisted I put it there, but she became tired and could not wait by the door," Yekaterina suddenly turned and said, before skipping out of the hallway into one of the rooms.

Ivan didn't move. He didn't even try to look up to confirm his sister's words. (It wasn't as if he had to – the mistletoe was practically hanging in his face.) Curse the one who cam up with this crazy tradition. Now he had to kiss someone! Wait… he had to kiss _Steve_. He felt as if his blood were draining away but at the same time he was on fire. Did the tradition apply to two males? But they were friends, right? That should mean it's alright to kiss and they didn't necessarily have feelings for each other. But at the same time, they were friends, so wouldn't kissing make their friendship awkward and make it seem as if they had feelings for each other?

Why was the concept so complicated? It shouldn't even matter; a kiss is a form of greeting in Russia! Wasn't it normal between friends? But then again, this was Steve… why was he making such a big deal over whether it was Steve or not that he had to kiss? It wasn't like he had a reason to. He was acting as if he had the hots for him or something…

…oh boy, he was in trouble.

Steve, on the other hand, was more worried about Ivan being frozen to the spot forever than some stupid kiss. Christmas spirit and all that, right? It was something that was going to pass, so why not have fun with it while it lasted? Ivan rooting himself to the spot for eternity was not something that was going to pass, though, so he had to stop him before he tried. He looked as though he wasn't even breathing anymore…

So, fast enough to give a cheetah a concussion and to start a big bang, fast enough so that Ivan didn't realize until after it happened, Steve pecked him on the lips real quick.

The Russian barely felt it, the only evidence being the slight moisture still lingering and the foreign warmth that suddenly felt scalding as he realized what had just happened. His face decided that imitating a tomato would be an appropriate reaction of embarrassment, but his heart suddenly tightened with… disappointment? No, no, why would he be disappointed? He couldn't have expected more, had he? His mind felt like it was screaming, 'do it again, this time I'm prepared!' but his body couldn't follow and instead decided to stare blankly at the Aussie, who was unaware of his inner turmoil.

Steve took Ivan's staring as a good sign so he beamed, laughing triumphantly as he patted the taller man on the back.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Ivan continued to imitate a zombie. Steve thought that this was a perfectly appropriate reaction and his smile did not falter.

"C'mon, let's go! Presents won't wait forever, y'know!"

Suddenly, Steve's hands grabbed Ivan's own, and it was enough to shake the Russian out of his trance as he again found himself being dragged into the room Yekaterina disappeared into.

And suddenly, he wished he could slap reality in the face and go back into his cardboard box of denial.

"Hello, брат."

Ivan took a step behind Steve. He was _not _cowering. This was his little sister! Who could be afraid of their little sister? Certainly not the Great Russian Federation! She could not possibly hurt him!

"…h-hello, моя сестра."

Ivan winced at the tremor in his voice. He looked up properly at Natalya, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She seemed to have smiled a little, but a sudden coughing fit seized her before he could confirm it. She really did look sick; her skin was of a deathly pallor, perhaps even whiter than that of Gilbert, and dark rings circled her dimmed eyes. Were her country's problems finally taking a toll on her physically? In a way, he was surprised; he had not seen her so sick in a very long time! It had been an equally long time since he pitied her, too, or held a proper conversation with her.

Natalya pushed her chair back and stood, ignoring Yekaterina's frantic insistence for her to remain seated. Weakly pushing back her sister with one hand and hiding a cough with the other, Natalya took a few steps toward Ivan before stopping at least a yard shy. Now Ivan was really worried! Usually, she would not pass up the chance to cling to him! Was she so sick that she couldn't even stand next to him? Tentatively, he took a step forward.

"I had wanted… to give you a ring… as a present, so that we could get married _married MARRIED_…"

Barely concealing a whimper, he retracted his step. So she wasn't sick enough to ditch the one-sided marriage/slavery plan. Judging from the thoroughly disturbed look on Steve's face, the man was willing to ditch any sort of plan if it meant getting away from Ivan's sister. Ivan found that he could not blame him.

"…but it would not do to have the bride a dirty mess at the wedding. Nor do I want you to become sick, too."

Momentarily, Ivan wondered if nations could catch colds from each other in such a fashion, but then again, one poor country trying to marry another poor country…

"I decided that the wedding would have to wait. It was a terrible shame. Instead, I want to give you this, Мой дарагі брат. Merry Christmas."

In a somewhat meek manner (since when could the word 'meek' be applied to his little sister…?) Natalya approached Ivan and had in her gloved hands a bundle of fabric. Still casting wary glances at Natalya, whose only lapse in expression was to cough and sneeze, he picked it up with one hand.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. So it wasn't just fabric! Ivan found instead that it was a knitted scarf of a somewhat hideous shade of green and of amateur quality.

"I taught her how to knit it," Yekaterina added in, smiling.

Natalya's blue eyes were ever so hopeful, and Ivan found himself unable to muster anything less than a smile.

"…спасибо, моя красивая сестра. Merry Christmas. Forgive me, but I could not find a gift for you in time for your arrival."

Natalya's cheeks pinked, but then again, it could've been the cold acting up.

"It is alright, брат. Being here with you is enough."

Maybe Ivan would be able to get through this. If Natalya was docile enough for the rest of the day, maybe he'd actually get away unscathed! Not to mention Steve getting away without being traumatized forever (although it may be a bit too late for that). Then again, what was that business with Murphy and stuff? If something can go wrong, it will?

Ivan made a note to curse that law as he noticed, with a steadily increasing unease, that Natalya had been staring at Steve for some time now, her gaze flickering between the two of them. Oh no, was she going to start asking questions? And just as he thought he'd get away scot-free! As he thought, wishing and hoping got him nowhere!

"…брат," Natalya began, and Ivan's stomach sank, preparing for the worst. "Why, pray tell, is _he_ holding _your_ hand and wearing _your_ clothes?"

Well. That could have been a lot worse. No, wait a second! Ivan looked at his hand, then up at Steve, but the Aussie was just as surprised as he was. How in the world did he move around without being conscious of their entangled hands? It was too late to dwell on that, he had to fix the situation before Natalya got the wrong idea! There were already some unfortunate implications to the clothing!

Wait… Ivan noticed the window from his peripheral vision, his eyes unable to tear its focus from Natalya. What if she saw them outside? She would not be pleased! She gave hell to anyone that she thought was close to him! Little Toris may deny it all he wants, but Natalya went as far as to break all his fingers when she discovered he was close to her brother!

Then, the only way to stop her from trying to hurt Steve was to pretend they weren't close…!

"Ah, this is…!" Ivan floundered, hastily dropping the Australian's hand and holding his own hands up as if to defend himself. He wrapped the green scarf around his neck despite already wearing one in a desperate attempt to appease Natalya.

"Y-You see, Steve has neglected to bring gloves. His hands w-were terribly cold; I could only warm them up with my own! Not only this, he neglected to wear appropriate clothing to the weather! I had no choice to but lend him clothes!"

Subtly, he shuffled a little more away from the Aussie. Natalya looked less than impressed by his flimsy explanation.

"I may be sick, брат, but I am quite capable of using my eyes. My eyesight may be hazy, but you two playing outside was quite as clear as day," Natalya said. For a brief second, her eyes widened, as if coming to a realization, before narrowing.

"…you are close enough to use your human names?"

Drat. He had slipped up. Ivan didn't allow himself to react visibly, instead putting more distance between himself and the brunet. Steve, however, seemed to have caught on, and was trying to move closer to him with a frown on his face. Why did the boy choose to be just a bit sharper at this moment, and why not choose to be sharp enough to realize that the Russian was trying to protect him? Oh, if Ivan had the power of telepathy! Then, he could project the memories of what happened to the last person that was believed to be closer than a subordinate to him! (Although, it certainly wouldn't help his goal to get away with both his and Steve's sanity intact…)

"…Наташа," Ivan started slowly, and Natalya perked up at the nickname, but remained vigilant. His plan had backfired, and instead of lowering her guard, Natalya was even more suspicious. Even she was aware that he'd never call her by that name unless something was up.

"Steve was just excited since it was the first time he had seen so much snow. I admit I, too, was overwhelmed. It has been such a long time since I had played with you in the snow. I had forgotten what it was like."

Natalya's eyes softened. Ivan repressed a smirk and inwardly did a victory dance. Then her eyes hardened and Ivan felt like crying.

"Брат, no amount of excuses can ever explain why you are using his human name," Natalya said, enunciating every word. Ivan suddenly realized that he had yet again referred to Steve by name, and resisted slapping himself. "Unless…

"You two are more than just friends?"

Already, Ivan could see her tightening her fists in barely controlled rage, and while Steve was turning red enough to put Yekaterina's borsch to shame, Ivan felt himself going the color of Natalya's whitening knuckles. If he opened his mouth now, surely, he'd only be digging a deeper grave for Steve and himself. His gaze found Yekaterina's, and with a flash of understanding, she spoke up.

"Ah, I forgot to give this to you," she said to Steve, the curve of her brow only slightly betraying her smile. She masked her nervousness with a laugh. "I never imagined that these would be so convenient, but I am glad that I made them."

"Made them?" Steve inquires, tearing his eyes away from Natalya and Ivan to look directly at their older sister. He had to admit, he was a little interested… okay, screw a little, a present is a present, and, well, darn if that small patch of awkward was going to stop him from getting presents!

"I did not know how big your hands are, so they may be a bit big," Yekaterina smiled apologetically, before placing a pair of gloves in the Australian's hands. Like Natalya's gift, it was hand-knitted, but it was done much more professionally. Yekaterina was right; it looked as if she had made the gloves to fit Ivan! The only thing proving it was for him was the dainty little ribbon with a cord hanging off it, on which was clearly imprinted, "Merry Christmas, Australia!"

"Thanks!"

Steve grinned, before slipping the ribbon off and placing the gloves contentedly. When he made no move to try and get closer to Ivan, Natalya's grip loosened, finding it satisfactory evidence for the very first argument. She still, however, did not look pleased. Using their human names was Ivan's biggest mistake. Natalya was right; he could justify all of his actions except the use of their names. Heaven forbid she found out about the mistletoe, but it was already implied in that the walked through the front door with their hands clasped together. Yekaterina was obviously not about to tell her about it, though, so maybe Natalya would overlook it…

"Oh, and Ваня," Yekaterina addressed Ivan, who turned to her, surprised.

"I have a gift for you too, of course! I know you like sunflowers, but I wanted to give you something different this year. Merry Christmas, Ваня!"

Yekaterina held up her hands and reflexively, Ivan held up his own (he was beginning to feel rather like a dog, trying to shake hands and paw and striving for his master's affection…). When he looked back at his hands, he found a bundle of sunflower seeds. Suddenly, he felt his lunch rise back up with a vengeance. Damn that enticing maple syrup.

"Моя сестра," Ivan said nervously, face pale, "you do not expect me to _eat _these, do you…?"

"What? Oh, good heavens, no!" Yekaterina gasped, looking stricken at how Ivan had even dared think that. She knew how much he loved them! She'd never try to make him do such a thing on purpose!

"I want you to grow them."

"But I will end up with sunflowers anyway. It will be the same as if you gave me sunflowers as a gift."

"No, it is not the same, брат. I am giving you the opportunity to grow sunflowers. Perhaps not right now, but when the weather becomes warmer. Surely, if you tried, you could even grow a sunflower field!"

Ivan wondered why she mentioned specifically a sunflower field. Did she know about his dream? If that was the case, then that meant that Toris had mentioned it to her. He'd have to visit little Toris later and have a little talk…

He looked back at the sunflower seeds in his hand. He would grow his own sunflowers? Of course he had considered it before, but always found reason not to actually do it, never even trying to buy the seeds. But here they were in his hands. Now, he felt as if all of the concerns he had before were trivial; that in reality, all that was holding him back was his own fears.

But what was he afraid of? Of being happy? Was wanting to be happy a selfish act?

'_I… don't think you're selfish.'_

'_Everyone wishes… for that sort of thing. It doesn't make you any more selfish than anyone else.'_

Ivan felt a little bit better about himself.

"Yeah, mate! And if it gets too cold, I could help you out, eh?" Steve laughed, slapping the man on the back. Ah, now Ivan remembered. Some of his main concerns were that the sunflowers would not withstand the cold, and that he would not be able to take care of the flowers himself. But with a little help, surely, he could overcome that?

"…thank you, Катюша. Steve. Merry Christmas."

Natalya narrowed her eyes at the exchange.

"It would seem that, perhaps, my assumptions were correct."

Ivan blanched. Steve had already forgotten what Natalya was talking about. He probably thought that the truth was that they were only friends, so it shouldn't matter what she says. Yet, it didn't matter what the truth was; as long as she didn't believe it and thought otherwise, then she would most definitely try to harm the Australian, and pursue Ivan more obsessively than ever before. Even if she believes the truth, it would be bad. Not only would she be angry that he lied, lover, friend, rival… as long as they were connected to Ivan and wasn't his sister, Natalya hated them all!

Just making it seem as if they weren't closer than friends wasn't good enough. He had to make it seem as if they weren't friends at all.

"Н-Наташа, don't be silly," Ivan stuttered, and almost winced when Natalya's knuckles cracked in her fists. Maybe using her nickname was a bad idea after all.

"I do not believe that using human names gives evidence for relationships closer than friends. Prussia uses the human name of Austria and vice versa."

Ivan pointedly ignored that Gilbert had been caught sucking face with the Austrian only a few weeks ago, confident that Natalya did not know of it. It turned out that he had also been ignoring another important fact.

"Prussia is no longer a country; Austria would not use his country name. Therefore, Prussia is an exception. Between nations, only people closer than friends would use human names."

Ivan cringed. He had not thought of that, and was now wracking his brains for another excuse.

"Very well, Наталя. But, моя сестра, if human names are used between people who are close, it can also be used by people who are _wanting _to build a closer relationship."

Natalya's growl told him that was the wrong thing to say.

"W-What I mean is, моя сестра, our bosses proposed the idea of using human names in order to get closer."

"Oh?" Natalya raised a brow, buying into the lie. Steve opened his mouth to try and protest, but Ivan kept talking.

"Trading is, ah, going well between out countries. Our bosses are hoping that such things will improve if our relations improve, and so here we are. They coerced us into spending Christmas together, да?"

Ivan looked at Steve as if looking for support, but the moment Steve locked eyes with him, he looked away. They both knew that what he said was bullshit. They weren't even major trading partners! Just what was Ivan trying to pull? Was this whole friend thing some kind of farce all along? Was he really just trying to manipulate him or something? He couldn't put it past him; he'd heard that the Russian had done it to other nations before. But why would he? No, he trusted him. They were definitely friends. But why would he try to hide that? Sometimes, Steve cursed at his own obliviousness and inability to pay attention at the right times, and this was one of those times.

He took a step towards the Russian, but Ivan turned his back to him and stepped away.

It stung.

He just couldn't understand. One second, the guy was all friendly with him, and in the next second, he was totally snubbing him. Until just now, he hadn't been this moody. It didn't add up. What was going on?

"Y-Yeah."

Natalya just stared at the two. Yekaterina, feeling awkward and tense, blabbered on about dinner and hurried away to the kitchen. The two men stood still. Natalya dropped the subject, satisfied, and sat back down somewhat smugly in her seat. Ivan should have felt like he had won. Natalya did not think that he and Steve were friends, so she wouldn't hurt him. That was good, wasn't it? Yet it felt like he had just made a fatal mistake. Suddenly, the two felt like strangers. He knew it was his fault. He regretted it, but at the same time, he didn't. It was all so wrong. Ivan could not have Steve as a friend because so many people hated him; they thought that Ivan would only manipulate him, that he would only hurt him. He could not speak of their friendship because his own sister was against it. In order to keep his friendship, he had to pretend they weren't friends. But Steve himself said that they were friends, and that's what mattered, right?

Blue eyes, wet with anger and yet scalding in its intensity stared at him through the twisted frames of broken glasses, burning clearly in his mind as if they were right in front of him.

'_Friends don't betray each other.'_

He gripped his chest tightly.

"You two, sit down! I made food!"

* * *

The meal was quiet and awkward. When Natalya was not eating, she was coughing or drinking water. Yekaterina tried to initiate a conversation several times, often with Steve and Ivan, but they never lasted longer than four exchanges. Ivan wanted to ask so much about Steve, wanted to tell Yekaterina how he had a new friend, but couldn't, for Natalya's gaze was heavy on him. If he did not say something now, to Steve or his sisters, he may never get the chance to. There was no telling when he could meet his sisters again. And what if Steve did not believe they were friends? What if he didn't want the Russian to come over for New Year's anymore? It would be terrible! How much he just wanted to reach over and grab the Australian by the shoulders, tell him that it was all a misunderstanding, it was for _him, _and he just wanted to ravage him-

…where in the world had _that _come from? It must have been from France. Shaking his head, he turned to Yekaterina and asked how her economy was going.

When Steve was sure that the Russian was not looking, he looked up and stared. He was still confused, and it annoyed him. Why had Ivan acted like he did? He felt as if the answer was so obvious, it was right in front of him but he just could not grasp it. His mind _refused_ to grasp it. It was in some kind of lockdown mode, repeating over and over in his head, 'he's not your friend; he doesn't want to be your friend'. At this rate, his brain was going to stay in a permanent stasis. It was as if he was so stuck on thinking that they were no longer friends that he didn't have enough free thought left over to figure out why. Maybe, was it his own fault? Had he done something to provoke the other man? Maybe it was the mistletoe…

Nobody noticed Natalya observing them, too engrossed in their own thoughts and conversation.

* * *

Darkness finally began to seep into the sky, chasing the light away. The moon had already risen by the time the quartet noticed, and yawned lazily as if to show them just how late it was getting.

"Well, I had a fun time!" Yekaterina smiled, shuddering a little at a chilly breeze that swept across, pulling her snow white scarf closer to herself. Next to her, Natalya was also shivering, but stubbornly kept silent despite how sick she was.

"Sometimes, I wonder why we do not do this more often!"

"…I suppose," Ivan mustered a small smile, leaning against the doorframe. His sisters had rushed outside the moment they saw how dark it was. They probably had to catch their plane. At this point, he really couldn't remember why they never spent much time together. Did they ever really have a reason? Once upon a time, they were almost inseparable. He couldn't remember when it had changed.

"I hope this is not too much to ask for, but Наталя would like to spend New Year's with you. Is it too much trouble?"

Then again, remember that saying? The ones who don't miss the Soviet Union are heartless, and the ones who want it back are brainless? The same could be said for this situation. He was not about to glue Natalya to his side again!

Ivan felt something softly thump him over the head and he turned around to find Steve, hands in his coat pockets and shuffling his feet together.

"Heya, big guy, I better get goin' too. Give your sister a chance, eh? Seeing off the old year with your family and all that."

"But what about-"

"It's alright mate, you should spend it with your sister," Steve smiled, but no matter how the Russian looked at his smile, it only appeared sad. Ivan felt a small pang in his chest.

Before he could even get a word in edgeways, Steve had stepped outside into the snow and waved goodbye without another word.

"So it would be no trouble?"

"…not at all," Ivan answered, thoughts still trained on the Australian. Just then, it seemed as if he had missed something important. Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he looked at his sisters properly and smiled as best as he could through his confusion. "I will see you on New Year's."

Natalya's eyes widened slightly at his compliance, before her lips curled upwards ever so slightly. She nodded, and they all waved goodbye as the two women walked off.

Ivan stared at their retreating backs until they were out of sight, and with a sigh, turned, and closed the door gently behind him.

And once again, Ivan found himself alone in his large, empty house.

* * *

This is a lot longer than it deserves to be and a lot later than it's supposed to be because WELL HAHAHA IT'S UH KINDA SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED AT NEW YEAR'S? A-Anyway if I make it for Chinese New Year's it's okay right? RIGHT?

Also, I'm sorry that I haven't been updating Britannia Angel. I probably won't update until I finish this. Britannia Angel only has about two chapters left. It's getting harder and harder for me to write it because my muse for USUK is totally running out :/ Soooo if you actually bothered to read to the end of this lame chapter send in links of fanart of USUK to inspire me pleeeeeasee? :D I m-may update faster, I'm sorry it's been 2 months...

Thanks for reading :D

And just so you know... no, not all Australians are this nice BUT MOST OF US ARE

Anyway, here's the Russian translations (I am proud to say I did not use translator for the Russian but I did for the Belarusian...) (sorry they aren't in order...):

да - yes  
Наталя - Natalya  
моя сестра - my sister  
Наташа - Natasha (nickname of Natalya)  
Катюша - Katyusha (nickname of Yekaterina)  
брат - brother  
Ваня - Vanya (nickname of Ivan)  
Мой дарагі брат - Belarusian for 'my dear brother'  
Беларусь - Belarus  
Красивая - beautiful  
колколкол - kolkolkol  
Америка - America  
другь - friend  
Нет - no  
Россия - Russia  
Финляндия - Finland  
Швеция - Sweden  
Да. Спасибо, мой другь - Yes. Thank you, my friend  
Всё хорошо - all is well  
Доброе утро, мой другь - Good morning, my friend  
Матвей - Matvey (Matthew)  
говно́ - equivalent of shit?  
товарищ - comrade  
мой другь - my friend  
Литва - Lithuania  
Германия - Germany  
Боже мой - My Goodness! (or something to this effect)


	2. Chapter 2

Frankly, Ivan wasn't even sure _how _he had survived the following week.

The entire ordeal pretty much left him brain-dead. The moment the door was closed, he basically went into some kind of breakdown. The sink could attest to this. It had battle scars in the form of dents to prove it. And if the walls had mouths as well as ears, they would be able to testify to the hysterical sobbing that came from the direction of Ivan's room. The vodka bottles sighed when a light breezed swept past their rims, their contents having been completely stolen from them in one gulp. There were noticeably a lot more bottles littering the Russian's floor than before, but it wasn't as if the floor could complain.

No matter how much evidence you piled on, though, you wouldn't be able to get a word out of Ivan.

After his small lapse in sanity, he retired to his bed, on which he immediately fell asleep upon slamming his head against the pillow. Well, if he thought that by going to sleep, he'd be able to escape his problems, he was dead wrong. It started out pleasantly enough; he dreamed of unicorns and Tetris blocks falling to form rainbows. (He had only vodka to blame for this.) Then Arthur appeared in a toga and, toting some spin-off kid's wand, conjured up a field of sunflowers. Then Ivan couldn't help but think, 'hey, he has green eyes, just like Steve.'

What an idiot, right?

Because no sooner had he thought that, all of a sudden, dream!Steve appeared and he was smiling and they frolicked through the flowers. Then Ivan had managed to trip himself over his scarf and accidentally pushed down Steve with him, and suddenly his dream became more NC-17 than this fic deserves to be. And just when he thought that it couldn't possibly get any stranger…

Natalya appeared wearing a gorilla suit and took Steve captive with an AK47-SU in her hand, a bright pink bow in her hair and her laugh unforgettable in its insanity.

Ivan had woken with a start, eyes wide awake and goose bumps lining his arms from the horror of the dream-turned-nightmare. Other parts of his body, however, were still stuck on the NC-17 portion of his dream, and he found that this combined with the nightmare fuel the last part of the dream provided made him unable to go back to sleep.

He found himself more confused than ever.

People didn't have dreams like that about their friends, did they?

Then Ivan almost broke down into tears again. Oh yeah, that's right; they weren't friends anymore!

At least, that's certainly how it seemed. Their entire friendship was pretty much based on Christmas and New Year's, but he'd completely blown Christmas, and now they weren't going to go through with New Year's! Not only that, but he'd basically said outright that they weren't friends! (Well, what he said wasn't true, anyway, but the effects were still the same.)

Oh, if only he hadn't agreed to spending Christmas with Natalya; no, if only Natalya hadn't come in the first place!

General Winter tutted disapprovingly, sending a chilly draft between the Russian's legs in order to kick him out of bed. No doubt he did this to teach Ivan a lesson. It wasn't like it was Natalya's fault!

Ivan sighed wearily, and picked himself up off the floor, placing his blankets back on the bed. He was right, though. He couldn't exactly blame everything on Natalya. There wouldn't be such an awkward tension between him and Steve if he'd just said that they were friends. There was nothing wrong with that, right?

…no, he was insane to even think that. Admitting their friendship to _Natalya_ was like signing their death warrant.

A growl escaped his throat as he slammed his fist against the wall, almost wincing when the wall screamed in agony of the abuse (or maybe it was his knuckles screaming). If their friendship was ever worth something to him, then Ivan should have told the Belarusian and he should have been willing to protect Steve if he really wanted to be friends. And it wasn't as if the Australian was weak or anything. From what he had heard from him, he dealt with dangerous creatures all the time, right? (Not that his little sister was exactly in the same category as them….)

Well, he was the one that made this mess, so he was going to have to fix it.

That said, did he really want them to be friends…?

Well, it seemed that even his own question confused himself! Perhaps he was more of a philosopher than he thought! The question had come out of nowhere, as if some sort of epiphany. Maybe it had been phrased wrong.

So Ivan wanted them to be friends again, but was that all he wanted?

Was he trying so hard to fix their relationship just to be friends again? Or did he want more?

The very idea brought color to his cheeks. To imagine him and Steve in a relationship closer than friends was just… impossible! The idea that they could still become so much as friends… even now, it seemed out of reach. A bittersweet smile crept up Ivan's lips. That's right; something like this happened with Toris. He had treated the nation lower than a dog, then subsequently tried to earn his forgiveness. Maybe he did forgive him, but hell would first freeze over before Toris ever trusted him again!

But this time, the circumstances were different. Their friendship had nothing to do with politics, he had not yet tried to invade the other, and Steve had approached him first. Steve had every right to turn him down, but he'd be damned if he didn't try!

His decision having been made, he nodded in triumph, before heading downstairs to make himself a well-deserved breakfast.

Just so it's clear, it had taken Ivan two days to reach this decision. By the time Reality pulled him out of his thoughts, it was the morning of the third day since. He's a darned quick thinker, right?

The Russian scoured his cupboards high and low, but his efforts were fruitless. When was the last time he went grocery shopping? He had stolen a glance into his fridge earlier, and he only found vodka bottles. (Not to mention, the refrigerator itself was broken, but who need fridges when you have weather like they did in Russia?) In the end, he had only managed to produce half-empty pancake mix and an almost entirely exhausted stock of maple syrup, the lack of syrup no doubt the work of Steve. Considering that it was the only edible food in his house and it didn't even belong to him was pretty pathetic.

He took one look at the stove and almost broke down for the second time. General Winter looked up from his newspaper and his laugh was despairingly malicious as he sat, rather contentedly, atop the stove, his entire corner of the kitchen completely encased in ice. Either Ivan had left a window open the other night, or General Winter wanted to ruin his life more than usual. Either way, that stove was not coming out of its icy prison any time soon. Chances were, it wasn't even working. Steve's infectious sunniness was probably the only reason it worked the other day.

With a resigned sigh, the Russian turned away from the kitchen, making his way to the table. He was in dire need of a shopping list; he couldn't remember half of the stuff he had to buy. It wasn't just the food that required restocking; even his clothes and blankets! Plus, he still owed gifts to his dear sister, Yekaterina. Was Steve the type of person to forgive easily with gifts? Alfred certainly seemed the type, but really, he had to stop comparing the two lest he start thinking they're the same person! What a shock it would be if he invited Alfred over by accident!

Well, he wasn't going to get a shopping list by just standing there. If he wanted one, he was going to have to write one down. If he'd just kept pens in his pocket all the time, he wouldn't have to look around for something to write with, but then again, that would be doing what Eduard did, and copying that stick in the mud was no fun at all! His gaze swept the table and he came across a small, folded piece of paper that lay beneath a black, ballpoint pen. Since when had that been there?

For the strangest of reasons, Ivan felt his stomach begin to sink. A sense of dread overcame him, a wave of nausea following close behind. It was as if he could smell danger wafting off the innocent-looking paper. Now who did that remind him of? He was afraid to find out, but unless he did, he'd end up having to walk around the house looking for writing tools and paper. Laziness ultimately won his inner battle, having bored Caution to death by listing the many reasons it sucked to walk, and so Ivan trampled down his nerves, daintily picking up the paper. The rate at which he unfolded the little piece of paper was enough to make a sloth go mad, but depending on who you asked, it definitely wasn't worth it.

For the moment his mind was able to fully process the words handwritten on the page, a shrill shriek that shattered glass and awakened people in comas pierced the morning air.

Now, what could possibly make Ivan Braginski, personification of the Russian Federation and former Soviet Union, scream like a little girl? It was quite simple really. There was only one thing that made him scared _at all._

So obviously, the note was written by his little sister, Natalya.

Ivan tried his hardest to forget what he had read, but all was in vain. The writer seemed to have predicted this, and as a pre-emptive measure, wrote everything with a bright red, extra-thick Sharpie in Russian. "Thank you for having us over, брат," it mocked him in a horribly falsetto voice. "Please do not forget our New Year's plans. Love, Natalya."

…**New Year's plans. Love, Natalya.**

Ivan almost screamed again.

Why did he have to always forget the important, life-threatening things? If Natalya ever found out that he had forgotten about their New Year's meet-up, surely she'd have his head on a silver platter! (No doubt she'd marry it, too.) Heaven forbid she ever finds out that Ivan had been too preoccupied with his concerns about _Steve _to remember!

If he ran to the stores now, maybe he could make his house look as if he were anticipating her visit!

Not even bothering to write down what he had to buy anymore, he fetched the keys from underneath the sunflower vase beside the front door and, without even sparing a glance back, he rushed out of the house…

…only to fall face first into a very, very thick blanket of snow that was probably more similar to that pea princess' bed.

Now the Russian was sorely tempted to pull his hair out! It took all of his power to not just go insane and throw a tantrum right then and there. Since when did all that snow get there, and how in the world had his previous guests gotten out of the house? Ivan picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his clothes - his clothes, he realized, that consisted of only a simple singlet, his boxers, and his ever-present scarf. His coat must have disappeared somewhere in the midst of his fit of sorts, no doubt eloping with his sanity. The adrenalin shielded him from the cold for the moment, but now wasn't the time to ponder such thoughts! He swiveled around only to come face to face with General Winter, who ducked out of the hallway the moment he was spotted. He must have had something to do with it. Then again, it might've just been Mother Nature working her course during his contemplation, but then again, wasn't Winter a force of Nature?

Letting out a strangled cry of frustration, he paced around the front door, agitation lacing his steps. This would not do! He had to get out, now! Every second he wasted was every second towards Natalya arriving at an unprepared house – it was every second towards his gruesome death! Perhaps, if he was lucky, Natalya would not be able to enter the house due to the snow, but this was Natalya, his little sister and personification of Belarus! No doubt she'd somehow claw her way into the house, and then Ivan would have no way out!

Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck him. He raced to the opposite end of the hallway as if his life depended on it (well, it kind of did, not to mention it was a bloody long hallway) and, the very second the toes of his feet kissed the back wall, he turned around with the rabid of determination of a bear and a growl worthy enough of a lion…

…to make a mad dash for the open door.

His bare feet almost slid on the icy front steps, but he didn't even so much as flinch, instead charging on into the desert of snow with such force that no doubt he could separate the Red Sea if he chose to. So in this fashion, he plowed through the snowy landscape of his front yard (which, mind you, was pretty big, but let's not forget the crucial fact that Ivan was a twisted nation of monstrous size and strength with the power to crush America) until he finally came across the road that pretty much connected him with the rest of civilization.

The rational part of his brain tried to reason with him; it's nowhere near time for Natalya to come visit! He had plenty of time; why rush things and worry to death over it?

Then the rest of his brain burnt down those thoughts at the stake for its heresy. Natalya's frighteningness transcended time and even English. Ivan wasn't sure if frighteningness was a word, but if it wasn't, then it should become one just to describe Natalya!

His rational side having been effectively kicked to the curb, his feet trampled the icy concrete mercilessly as he headed off down the road, the barren landscape gradually filling up with pedestrians as he continued to trudge along. Ivan couldn't help but look around in paranoia. His concerns were entirely justified! It had been more than once that Natalya had popped up out of nowhere when he least expected it! So, if he was expecting it, then she wouldn't pop up! In all honesty, Ivan looked like a right madman, stalking down the street in his boxers in the middle of a Russian winter and eyes bloodshot and unfocused like a druggie, looking around like the FBI was chasing after him. Everyone but Ivan seemed to realize this, and the entire passerby that saw him shied away not all too subtly.

After what seemed an eternity of trudging through the streets, Ivan finally found himself in front of the only grocer for miles around, and, even worse, found that it looked like a huge mosh pit, what with all of the people trying to shove their way into the building. Because, in addition to being the only grocer for miles around, it also happened to be connected to the only liquor store for miles around, and New Year's wasn't going by sober. By the way, that keening whine most certainly did not come from the Russian. It must have been someone's dog.

This would not do! It was not as if they were the only ones doing last minute shopping! So was he, and in his case it could quite literally be his last minute of shopping ever! He could not waste any more seconds waiting outside and waiting for Natalya's arrival! He had to be prepared!

Summoning all of the anger and frustration locked deep within the depths of his heart, and surging forward with a power that he hadn't known had existed in all of the known universe and beyond…

…he smiled.

Heads whipped around fast enough to make them roll and a collective gasp hushed the crowd. The only sound that could be heard in the entirety of Russia was the frantic shuffling of feet as the masses rushed to hide or flee; anything as long as they weren't on the path of the large nation.

Well, it certainly seemed incredibly amusing; at least, for the Russian, it was. A giggle bubbled up his throat and he could not help but let it spill out, the high-pitched laughter echoing through the rapidly emptying building. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to have still been in the immediate vicinity either started frothing violently or mysteriously vanished. Somewhere in Sealand, Raivis screamed and shuddered, but it may have not been for the reasons that the people of Russia had…

How considerate, Ivan thought, pleased. How very much in the Christmas spirit it was that everyone would make way for him when he was in a hurry! Then his momentary pleasure evaporated like a drop of water in the Australian sun when he remembered why he made the short trip in the first place. It was no time to be standing around and smiling like an idiot! He had to hurry and prepare for Natalya's coming! (Somehow, Ivan realized, he was preparing for quite the wrong person considering the time of the year…)

He darted into the store, taking not of how so very empty and quiet it was, before pausing to collect his thoughts. What exactly did he have to get, again? Oh, that's right; food! It would not do to have empty cupboards when his sister came; maybe she'd go away if she got hungry (on second thought, that was a pretty good idea…). What did she like to eat? Surely, she'd settle for borscht? It was a good idea, but he did not know how long she'd stay. Eating borscht for every meal sounded incredibly bland. (Honestly, did he want Natalya to stay or go?) He'd just have to make sure that she'd only stay for a day, then…

Gathering the necessary ingredients in less than five minutes, he strolled to the cashier, only to find that the one manning the desk had, too, fled. Well, that wasn't good. It wasn't like he was going to walk off without paying! He may be a nation, but he wasn't completely above the law; they were his own, of course! Ivan ran a hand down his thigh as if to rifle through his pockets, only to realize that he was still in his boxers and he had not brought along his wallet. He groaned. Why now, of all times? How was it, that Alfred expressed it? Life sucked sometimes. Ivan eyed the desk, then the entire area. There were no security cameras. If no one was there to witness it, then there was no crime in the first place, and it wasn't really illegal, wasn't it? Maybe he'd come back to pay for it later. (Still, he could not help but feel like a criminal. What would the other nations think? Surely, Steve would not approve…)

Feeling only a little guilty – his fear for what would happen if he _didn't _bring back food greatly overwhelmed his guilt – he walked as casually as he could out of the store. He needn't have bothered; the area was still clear of people, and it felt strangely empty. Shrugging, the Russian began to walk down the street before suddenly being hit with a bright idea. So he only had one dish for them to eat, but there was one thing that would solve everything!

Vodka!

(Maybe if he got lucky, Natalya would get drunk and he'd ship her back over to Belarus…)

Grinning, his plan foolproof (at least in his mind), he sauntered across the pavement with a plastic bag in hand. The streets were slowly beginning to fill up with people as the Russian calmed. If the nation of Russia was feeling happy, then it was probably infecting the rest of its people…

Now that the adrenalin had finally drained out of his body, Ivan suddenly realized how cold it was. In hindsight, it was a really bad… no, wait, that's right; everything was about Natalya. It was a really, really good idea to leave as fast as possible. (Maybe he should have at least worn his shoes, though…) He probably looked insane to everyone else, though. He probably wouldn't look as insane if he were in Australia, though; the weather was the exact opposite of his country!

Ivan tried to suppress a shudder, pulling his scarf closer to himself. If not his shoes, he should have at least grabbed his coat. Why did he take it off in the first place? Sleeping in the middle of winter with only his boxers and undershirt on was like asking to die from frostbite! If it were only more sunny, he wouldn't have to worry about trivial matters like this! Being so slovenly dressed when sleeping was something Steve was much more inclined to do!

If he didn't want to freeze to death, he was going to have to hurry up and get home. Oh, if only his adrenalin could have lasted him longer! Or, perhaps, he should have brought along a flask of vodka, instead! It would have, at the very least, kept him warm! Ivan felt it appropriate to shed a dramatic tear, but he grimaced and found a real reason for crying when the tear froze up the moment it came into contact with the cold air.

Then Ivan despaired, his eyes surely frozen over from all the tears that failed to escape their prison. That's right! He wasn't even finished with shopping! He still had clothes to buy, and blankets, and not to mention presents! He felt most guilty for not getting a present for Steve. Ivan was the one to invite the Australian over for Christmas, and then subsequently forgot about it and he didn't even get him any gifts! (Let's not focus on the fact that maybe he kind of ruined their friendship, so Ivan was pretty much obliged to give the Australian a thousand gifts.)

Yekaterina had insisted that it was alright, but then he felt even worse. And Natalya… if he couldn't get her an actual gift, surely she'd demand something insane! What if she asked for his body? Or his hand in marriage?

You know what, let's just man up and admit that yes, Ivan was the one doing the whimpering, and no dog anywhere in the world could sound as pathetic as he did.

So now, he couldn't go home because he had yet to buy the rest of his supplies and gifts, but at the same time he couldn't exactly get anything done since he didn't have his wallet on him (that, and his wallet wasn't exactly overflowing with money). But if he didn't get anything done, then he was liable to be murdered quite gruesomely by his little sister. The only way to get anything done now was to steal…

Well, Ivan had a real bad reputation among humans and nations alike, but if there was one thing that he wasn't, it was a petty thief. He may be a little poor (not that money mattered, of course), but he wasn't so low as to stoop to stealing to support himself! It would affect his already damaged reputation (not to mention dignity)! What would Steve think?

Ah, he had gotten off onto a tangent! The point was, just worrying while being glued to the spot wasn't helping that he did not buy everything he needed because he didn't have any money on him. In the end, he didn't really have a choice but to go home. Without any more hesitation, Ivan continued to walk home, using his thoughts to distract himself from the cold. He'd heard once that if you imagined yourself in a cold place when it was really hot, and you honestly believed that you were in that place, you'd actually feel cold. Surely, it would work for this situation?

A place that was warm. There was no such place in Russia. The closest to warmth he had ever felt in his homeland was with his sisters when they were young, but even as he imagined it, he could feel the bitter ice that they had tried shielding each other from stabbing his skin. What was the warmest place he knew…?

Australia.

(The only place he could think of where the temperature soared higher than in Australia was America, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be caught thinking of America!)

Australian summers were long and sunny, and the winters weren't anywhere near as cold as his. While there were deserts and dry lands, there were also vast coasts and beautiful beaches. From what he knew of it, it sounded like some sort of paradise!

But it was a place where he could not go.

Ivan's steps suddenly faltered, slowing to a snail's pace. That's right. He was supposed to go, but now he wasn't.

The original plan was that Steve would visit Ivan's house, and then he would visit Steve's. The Russian had told him about how much he wanted to go some place warm, to see his country, told the Australian things he would not ordinarily tell other people…

…and yet, it was Steve who said that he shouldn't go.

Ivan stopped walking completely. Suddenly, all of the energy he had left completely dissipated. He could understand why Steve would want him to spend time with his sister, but at the same time, he couldn't. Ivan had told him things he had not had the courage to tell others, had told him things that he was afraid someone would make fun of, had told him because he thought Steve was his _friend. _Now, Ivan wasn't exactly a paragon of loyalty and friendship, but he thought that Steve would at least stay to ask, 'why?'

Did that mean that he no longer considered him as a friend? That everything he said and everything that happened didn't matter to him? Ivan believed that Steve was not petty enough to go around telling the things that he had told him, but did that mean that Steve didn't think it worthy to reveal, too insignificant to give consideration to?

He felt too heavy to move, as if the ice below him would swallow him whole if he so much as took a step. And oh, did he wish for it! Maybe then, he wouldn't have to face his problems. He wouldn't have to face Steve.

If only it were so easy. The Russian knew from experience that everything was not going to solve itself. If he let it go on for any longer, it would only get worse and worse until there was no turning back. Whether he wanted to or not, no matter how hard it would be, he was going to have to do something about it; before it's too late.

Now, thinking of the Australian sun and bright green eyes made him feel cold inside, while his body just felt numb. In hindsight, Ivan probably should have started moving faster at that point, unless he wanted frostbite, but at that moment, all he could think of was, 'so much for keeping me warm'.

He'd probably stopped more times than he cared to remember that past hour. It wasn't even that he was cold anymore; he was just at a loss of what to do. He was probably a nuisance, though, just some giant weirdo taking up the sidewalk. It'd be better for everyone if he just went home.

Ivan dragged his feet across the concrete, his head bowed and arms limp by his side. Making big decisions is a bad idea when you're really tired. No, making any sort of decision while half-asleep was probably a bad idea. If he couldn't decide what to do now, he'd just have to sleep on it, or something. (Heracles was living proof that this strategy _did not work at all, _but he may as well give it a shot…)

Time was being merciful, and made what could have been hours walking back to his house seem like mere seconds. The soles of his feet looked red and skinned, but it didn't matter once he set his feet inside the house. Fleetingly, Ivan realized that he had left the door unlocked, but the realization slipped out of his mind's lethargic hands and the Russian just kept on walking. If there were any people to watch him, they would've feared a Russian zombie invasion (Alfred was all prepared), but there weren't. Even so, Ivan looked like a lone zombie stumbling on for brains. Maybe that's what he needed. His own brain wasn't exactly helping him figure anything out.

Lacking the strength to climb the stairs, Ivan's feet took him to one of the front rooms. He was starting to get tunnel vision – it gave him a sort of psychedelic feeling, and he would swear, under oath, that he did not giggle like a little girl. Well, if he was the sleepy equivalent of being wasted back with Steve, then he was now the sleepy equivalent of being totally stoned.

The Russian collapsed onto the couch in the corner of the room, setting his plastic bad not so delicately on the ground and slowly closing his eyes.

Wait a second. He didn't have a couch. Blearily cracking an eye open, he turned his head ever so slightly only to find a paper card in his face. He strained his eyes to read what was messily scrawled onto it in blue pen.

'Hyvää joulua! You need a couch.'

And so it was.

Again, he turned his head, but this time, he let it flop against the soft cushions of the couch. At least it wasn't blinding blue; a pity it wasn't red, though. Was the couch there when Steve was over? It was probably there in the morning. Steve probably would've preferred to sit on the couch rather than the chairs.

Violet eyes remained locked onto the white ceiling, but was becoming unfocused as everything began to blend together. He felt as if he were sinking beneath the sea, the water taking hostage his limbs and drowning out all the noise outside the surface. It felt as though he weren't breathing; no, that he didn't have to breathe. Nothing else mattered, his mind succumbing to the darkness.

As his last fragments of consciousness slipped away, a realization occurred to him.

The entire time, he had been thinking of Steve.

* * *

Ivan wasn't exactly one of the happiest of nations when he woke up. Well, it really depends on what one's interpretation of 'happy' was. His body certainly had different views of happiness to his mind, that's for sure. Another green-eyed dream of sun-kissed skin and bright smiles left him feeling wet and incredibly dirty, leaving behind traces of confusing feelings and doubt lingering in his heart. Now, he was left with a painful problem, and as if it couldn't get any worse-

"Hello, брат."

Of course, his sister was there to witness everything.

Ivan quickly sat up, face redder than one of Alfred's Christmas cakes. (Speaking of which, no doubt the stupid American tried to force another one of them on Arthur. They were probably holding a competition for which of their holiday foods were more disgusting.) He must have slept for two days! Now it was the last day for New Year's and Natalya had decided to come… but why at that precise moment? Why not later? Well, it was really his fault for not being able to wake up earlier, but that wasn't exactly one of the foremost thoughts in his mind.

"H-H-Hello, Наталя," Ivan sputtered out quickly, attempting to cover up his 'little' problem by bringing up his feet and plastering a painfully plastic smile on his rapidly paling face. Oh, boy. He was so dead! Either she was going to get suspicious as to who he was thinking about, or she would assume that she was the reason of his problem. He wasn't sure which was worse. The latter wouldn't get him maimed, though…

"…I see you fell asleep preparing for my coming," she finally continued, lifting an elegant eyebrow at the plastic bad that lay pathetically by itself on the floor. Either she was being extremely merciful today, or she really didn't notice. Either way, Ivan could've kissed her feet at that moment.

Wait, no, retract that statement. Suddenly, she became timid, the lightest of pinks tinting her cheeks. Obviously, she had assumed the latter possibility in relation to his little problem – as in, _who_ was the cause for it!

"You really did not have to try so hard, брат. I would have been fine with anything that you offered me."

Alright, so maybe not. Note to self; next time Natalya comes over to visit, let her sleep on the couch and drink only vodka.

"A-Ah, but I had to!" Ivan protested, making a move to stand but stopping suddenly as he realized that his problem wasn't going away any time soon. Damn it, why was it still there? He wasn't even thinking of the… oh, crap, wrong move. His problem got worse. Ivan tried to will it away, but his attempts were greatly undermined by memories of that stupid dream.

"Y-You are моя дорогая сестра! Of course I had to make sure to prepare so that you would be comfortable!" Otherwise, he might've been killed! Why was it that no matter what the situation, when with Natalya, he felt as though his life could end at any moment? His problem wasn't making anything better! Alright, he had to make it go away once and for all. Natalya in a bikini. No, worse; it had the Russian flag on it. Ivan almost cried in relief when his problem lowered, but then the reason for his tears changed the instant his dirty mind decided that Steve in swimwear looked so _much _better.

"Do not look so worried, брат!" Natalya said. Maybe Natalya wasn't as pretty as a man? Ivan tried to imagine her as such, but he only ended up hurting himself more by imagining Steve as a girl. "Of course, I appreciate your efforts, Ваня. I love you no matter what you do, and I will always support you until we get married _married MARRIED_!"

Ivan winced. That took care of his problem. Being married to his sister? Not only was that incest, but even if she weren't his sister, she was bat shit _insane. _Maybe on the inside, really, really, really, _really _deep inside, she was an extremely kind and decent person, but Ivan had yet to experience that side of her, and something told him that marrying her would not change that. It would be like being chained to her!

Then he imagined being chained to Steve. He knew it wasn't that easy to get rid of his problem… his imagination was running into overdrive…

"P-Perhaps, моя сестра," and Natalya instantly brightened, but Ivan quickly shot her down, "but for now you should take care of yourself. You are still sick, да?"

Natalya seemed put off, but she backed away from the marriage subject anyway.

"Ah," Natalya said, head bowed slightly in embarrassment, "please excuse me."

Then she left, assumedly to go to the bathroom, allowing Ivan a chance to gather his bearings.

Okay, problem _not _in hand, time to say goodbye. Ivan took a dubious glance to the hallway that Natalya disappeared into. There was no way he could get his problem to go away in time by hand. He had to think of things so grotesque that it would just want to pack up its things and fly to Florida (oh, did that sound really bad…)!

Okay, so what was the cause of his stupid problem in the first place?

Steve.

It was strange. For every night after they had parted (which, admittedly, wasn't that long ago but still!), the Russian had dreams about the cheerful Australian, and they weren't exactly of the innocent type. He was already sure that people didn't have such dreams about their friends. But that was then confused by the possibility that they _weren't _friends any longer. And because of these dreams, he was starting to think weird thoughts about the brunet. Thoughts that he wouldn't ordinarily think sober or about other people, let alone someone he considered his friends. Was it the vodka? He couldn't have gotten so drunk so easily…

Maybe he was just getting confused. It had been such a long time since he'd had a friend. Perhaps he was blurring the line between lovers and friends. It had been such a long time since he'd had either thing. No, that was wrong. It was more that he'd never had a lover, and perhaps his friendships were more one-sided than he'd like to think. Who was he to say what the difference between a lover and a friend was?

Then how did he actually think of the Australian?

Ivan blinked and slowly inclined his head downwards to his problem – or lack, thereof.

All that confusion actually made his problem go away. Ivan wasn't sure what to think of the situation.

Well, for the moment, now that it was safe for him to stand up, he should probably make that borscht. It was going to take forever to make…

Heaving a tired sigh, he picked the plastic bag of beets up off the floor and headed across the hallway into the kitchen. He probably wasn't going to finish in time for New Year's. For some reason, it sort of depressed him. How far ahead was Australia to Moscow's time? He'd have to check with someone. By then, though, it would probably already be New Year's. Even with Natalya in the house, he felt so alone without Steve.

Wait a second. Natalya was in the house.

"Брат, what are you doing?"

Yes, it was Ivan, the Great Russian Federation who screamed like a little girl, and yes, his little sister was the cause of it. Her coat clad arms were wrapped gently around his arm but to him, they felt suffocating. He was sure that she was hiding a knife somewhere, as if to remind him, "you don't let me do what I want? Then I'm sure you wouldn't miss a few fingers. I'll leave the ring finger on for when we get married _married MARRIED_!" Ivan whipped his head around quickly to spot any movements the Belarusian made, particularly for any moves towards his fingers, but he immediately regretted it as he got an eyeful of sizeable tracts of land. Did Natalya really think that by unbuttoning her coat, she'd seduce him? She completely disregarded the fact that they were siblings! Not to say that she was small or anything, but those were his _sister's _breasts!

"Borscht!" Ivan squeaked (yes, he squeaked) in a voice that wasn't quite his, "I-I decided to make borscht for you! Y-You must be hungry, д-да?"

Oh, God! Now she was pushing her chest up against his arm! He knew being in a building alone with her was an immensely bad idea!

"It is alright, брат. I would rather you sit down while I cook. It is the basic duty of a wife, is it not?"

"I-I agree," and Ivan almost slapped himself, "but you are sick, да? As your брат," here, Natalya soured, thankfully loosening her grip on his limb, "I do not wish to see your condition deteriorate. Please, sit down."

For a while, Natalya did not move. Ivan was just about ready to sink into despair, when she begrudgingly let go of his arm to sit down on the counter. Well, it was a small improvement. At least now she wasn't touching him… but now she was staring rather contentedly at his face. Maybe it was a bad idea after all.

Silently, the Russian began to chop the beets, the sound of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board trying to ease the tension. Then the silence became deafening as he began to boil the water and the beets, which was, for being burned alive, being rather quiet. If she didn't say anything now, he might freak out enough to cut his finger off; it would certainly save Natalya of the job. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Ваня, you are still wearing my scarf."

He was? Ivan looked down at his neck to see a green scarf, every bit as horrendous as when he first saw it. Ah. So it was. He looked up at Natalya and could only hope that nothing showed on his face.

"So I am. It is very… warm. Thank you, моя сестра."

Now, the blush on her cheeks was unmistakeable. Clearly, she was embarrassed, but rather than avert her eyes as most people would do in such a situation, instead she stared at him with even more intensity. Ivan felt more nervous than ever. That gaze of hers could probably make Antarctica break out in sweat.

"Anything for you, брат."

Again, they lapsed into silence. It was not as suffocating as the previous silence, but it was still awkward. This time, his spoon took its turn to avoid complete silence by sporadically stirring the soup. Belatedly, Ivan realized that his stove was working again. It seemed that even General Winter had fled from his little sister. That, or he was out terrorizing Alfred. Not that he minded, of course. Anyway, it wasn't as though it was Ivan's responsibility to keep track of him…

"…брат," Natalya suddenly piped up, making Ivan jerk the spoon which spat out hot beets at his eyes, "remember the old days, when we were children?"

Ivan didn't say anything.

"You, Екатерiна and I always spent New Year's together. Without fail, we were always together. Do you not remember?"

"Yes, I do," Ivan murmured, before he could stop himself. He'd never really considered Natalya to be one for sentimentality, but then again, he was getting sucked into it, too. Perhaps it was because they were sentimental that they avoided the subject.

"Yes. They were cold and unforgiving, but as long as we were together, everything was fine. We always asked for a good year, and warmer seasons."

Ivan stopped stirring. He looked up at Natalya, but now she was looking down at her boots, encrusted with snow. The look in her eyes was distant, as if she were reminiscing about the old days. The days that they often thought about, but didn't quite remember properly. The days when they were still of the same people, and still celebrated the New Year together. No doubt, Natalya wondered, "why don't we celebrate it together anymore?" Sometimes, Ivan, too, wondered, why, but then he realized that this was Natalya they were talking about and he stopped wondering.

"Then the Kievan Rus fell…"

The house fell silent. It was a sensitive subject. Ivan would not recall a time in which they discussed the matter with anyone, not even themselves. Francis had tried to bring up the Mongol invasion that ensued the fall, but Ivan would not allow him to speak of it. It had been hard on everyone. Suddenly, he was separated from his siblings, and afterwards he could not remember days as warm as the ones he spent with his family, despite it having been perpetual winter.

Natalya looked up, stepping off the counter.

"Ваня, will you not live with me again?"

And there ended the reminiscing.

"Брат, if we became one, it would be just like the old days! Екатерiна will be fine on her own! She has made friends! But you and I, alone in this world, must stay together! We must become one!"

A dull pang registered in his heart. Was that really what they were? Was that really what he was? Was he just a lonely nation that had no friends? The food had begun to burn, but Ivan took no heed, gaze unfocused and ears closed to Natalya's insistence on their becoming one. In the entire world, was there really no one he could call his friend; someone who would call him a friend? Was he destined to be alone forever?

He thought back. All his life, it was bloodshed. As a nation, he could never have kept his innocence, but even as a country, his history was particularly gory. He was always forced to fend for himself – either he turned on his allies, or they turned on him. Maybe in the first place, he never had allies. He was forced to kill others, and was forced to kill even his own people just to survive. The stench of death followed him wherever he went, and it warded off all the nations who tried to come near. He knew he was selfish and possessive. He knew he could be cruel, even to his 'friends' or allies, in ways that were unforgivable. He knew this, and he knew that it was his entire fault. That he was his own reason for not having friends.

'_You know how you said that you wanted more friends? I think ya will, big guy.'_

It didn't have to be that way anymore.

"Наталя."

Natalya stopped talking, and the look in her eyes as she looked up at him could only be described as hopeful.

"Then, you agree, б-"

"Нет, Наталя."

Her eyes widened, before narrowing into small slits, her knuckles turning white.

"Why, брат? We could take everything back! We could-"

"Нет, Наталя. You do not understand. We could have everything back. Everything would be just like before."

Ivan looked up.

"But that is all in the past now. We cannot go back. Наталя, we have to move on. This time is no longer that of war and destruction, it is of peace, and it is a time where you can make friends. It doesn't have to be like before, when we were alone in dark winters, having to fight against the world. We do not have to be alone like before."

"You say that, брат, but it was not all that long ago that you were the Soviet Union," she growled. "You were hated! And some of the nations still hate you! Everyone else is afraid of you! Do you really think that they will be your friends? Only I want to be with you! Only I will be by your side forever and ever!"

"No, Наталя! That attitude is the reason why you do not have any friends!" Ivan winced. Maybe that came out wrong. "It is why I do not have any friends! Наталя, the past is the past, and in time, everything will get better, да? If you are stuck in the past, you can never move on! Please, Наталя, do you not want what is good for you? What is good for me?"

Natalya stayed silent. She was biting her lip, almost as though she were about to cry, and her fists had slackened, arms limp at her sides. She looked away, bitterness present in her voice as she muttered, almost inaudibly,

"It is because of him, is it not?"

All the blood from Ivan's face drained, and whatever speech he had left prepared for her suddenly became the farthest thing from his mind.

"Наталя, you cannot continue to put the blame on others! If there is anyone to blame, it is-"

"It is," she said again, her voice beginning to rise, "it is all because of that filthy Australian, is it not? He is what is keeping you from me! If I dispose of him, then we can be together!"

"Наталя, you cannot do that! It does not work that way!"

"Then how does it work?" Natalya cried, bordering on hysterics, and suddenly she was yelling right in Ivan's face. "How, брат? Why is it that I cannot kill him? What has he done for you? He has done nothing but be a nuisance! He is a good for nothing scumbag! He cannot help you! He cannot do anything for you, so why? He is just a stupid little _nothing!_"

"No, Наталя! None of that is true! He has done everything for me! I would do the same for him! He is my friend, Наталя, and I…"

The two fell silent. The tension was still stagnant in the air, but all of a sudden, it felt as thought their energy had been sapped from them. Ivan found himself at a loss for words.

"And I…"

"You like him," Natalya said quietly, her voice monotone. For a while, Ivan could not speak. Was that really all it was?

"…it is more complicated than that," Ivan finally said, just as quietly. "I… I am sorry, Наталя."

"You should not be," she said. Her tone was resigned, tired. That was it. That was the end of her chasing and threats. Ivan should have felt relieved, but instead he only felt tired as well, as if the two had realized just how absurd their past years of playing cat and mouse were.

The conversation ended there, and no words were spoken as Ivan continued to work on the borscht, taking the pan off the stove. Was it over? Had he ruined even his relationship with his little sister, now? Was she, perhaps, right, and now he was truly alone?

"Брат," Natalya said, after a great pause, waiting until Ivan turned to her before speaking, "is it that… you do not want to be here with me?"

"Нет, Наталя, it is not that," Ivan responded wearily, shoulders drooping. Just when he thought they were getting somewhere…

"But, you would be willing to spend time with that… that…"

"Наталя, I would be willing to spend time with both of you, but you are always… ah, antagonizing him. You are always making him out to be the villain. I just wish that you could accept him and get along with him. He is not a bad person."

Natalya stared at him, gaze blank, before she turned away, her back facing her brother. Would she leave now? For some reason, he dreaded the idea just as much as he relished it.

"You really do like him, брат?"

Even though it was stated as a question, to Ivan, it was undeniable, undebatable. It certainly explained all the thoughts that he'd been having, and also the dreams. It seemed right, but it didn't feel right. To say that he only liked the brunet, that when he looked at the Australian, all he felt was a mere infatuation… it didn't sit well with him; it didn't feel as thought that were all that the brunet deserved, especially from him.

"Is that how it seems?" Ivan asked, instead of voicing his thoughts. Natalya snorted, as if he had just asked whether the sun was bright or not.

"Please, брат. It was all too obvious. You did not treat even Літва in that way. That Australian, you should have seen his face when you said this was all set up by your boss and you ignored him. The look on his face could only be described as dejected."

Natalya paused, gathering her thoughts (and allowing Ivan to gather his), before continuing, "Why did you lie? You were friends, and yet said that you were not. Why would you…"

The question hung heavily in the cold air, wringing out all the drops of awkwardness that it could. They both knew the answer to that question, but neither would say anything about it. Natalya slumped onto the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. Ivan, unsure of what to say, stood quietly and thought of something to break the tension. He didn't have to, for Natalya continued to speak only a moment later.

"Ivan… I am sorry."

The spoon clattered to the floor. Yes, it was melodramatic and clichéd, but it was entirely appropriate to the situation! Ivan almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Natalya, who had always referred to him by nicknames and titles, who never listened to what he had to say, had just called him by name and apologized. For what, he could not be sure; was she apologizing for all the years she spent obsessing over and stalking him, for ever coming back, or for what had transpired from the events with Steve? Perhaps it was for everything, maybe for both the good and the bad. He wondered, did she regret their relationship, too? Before he could mull over it, Natalya turned to face her brother.

"Брат, I do want what is good for you. And so, I think you should go."

Ivan blinked awkwardly. It wasn't, 'I should leave', or God forbid, 'we should get married', but that he should leave. Was she serious?

"If you leave now, surely, you will make it."

"Сестра… are you sure?"

Natalya stared at him, before, ever so slightly, the corners of her lips curled up. For that instant, Ivan was suddenly stunned, dazzled, as though, in that moment, he could see nothing nor remember anything but his sister. It had been such a long time since he had seen his sister smile in such a manner (ergo, a non-creepy manner), and to think that the one time she did was when he was leaving her… it made him feel so suddenly sad.

"Брат, I want what is good for you, and so do I want what is good for me. It would not do to chase a man who does not fancy me."

Again with the disregard to their blood bond. Ivan wanted to ask, 'why didn't you realize this sooner?' but surely, if he did, Natalya would not hesitate to chop his feet off.

Then the absurdity of the situation hit him. Natalya, of all people, was giving him permission to see Steve! She wasn't going to follow him, or Steve, and now he had a chance to apologize to the Australian! It may even be his only chance, and it was his little sister who was giving it to him! Ivan almost stopped himself from hugging her, before realizing that he really didn't have a reason not to and going ahead to embrace her. She jumped, startled, but slowly began to return the hug, gingerly putting her hands around Ivan's back.

"Спасибо, моя дорогая сестра."

With that, Ivan disappeared out of the door. Natalya just stared off after him. She hadn't even gotten the chance to tell Ivan that he was still in his boxers. (Not that she minded, of course.) She looked down at her hand, on which lay the scarf she had given him. Had she done the right thing? What really mattered was whether her brother was happy or not, right?

With a sigh, she took out a bowl from the drawer, wrapping the scarf around her neck. Now she had to eat by herself.

Ivan panted as he ran, not because he was tired, but because of the pure adrenalin charging his body. He had to get to the airport, and _now. _He often had to go overseas, and as a result, he lived less than a half hour from the airport, but he felt as though he had miles and miles. He just couldn't get there fast enough. He still didn't know what the time difference between Russia and Australia was. What if the plane wouldn't get to Australia in time? Where in Australia was Steve, anyway?

It didn't matter. If he didn't get to the airport, he wouldn't have the chance to look for the brunet at all. If he couldn't even get into the country, then there was no point. If he kept going like he was now, just running like a madman, he was not going to make it. It was already the afternoon! For all he knew, it was already midnight in Australia!

Without thinking, he grabbed a stranger's arm and almost shouted, "Сколько времени?"

Surprise, surprise, the stranger was a foreigner, and he was staring at the nation with wide, frightened eyes. In horrible Russian that could have passed for one of Arthur's demonic chanting, he said that he could not speak Russian. Damn right, Ivan thought, you sure can't.

Frantically, Ivan gestured to his wrist, trying to keep his voice down. "The time! I need the time!"

"O-Oh," the foreigner squeaked out, looking like he'd just been told that he was going to die. Maybe it was Ivan's face that was telling him that. Maybe Steve was right that first day and he really was being scary – he just didn't realize it. Anyway, what his face looked like when he wasn't looking didn't matter! He just had to know the time! The tourist took one look at his phone and sputtered out, "it's three in the afternoon!"

"That had better be Moscow time," Ivan growled.

"Y-Yes, yes! Moscow time!" the man cried, on the brink of tears. Satisfied, Ivan let go of his collar (he hadn't realized that he'd been holding him. Maybe that was why he looked like he was dying), muttering 'thank you' before taking off down the street. Three o'clock! There was no way that it wasn't at least a six-hour flight to Australia, and he still did not know what the time difference was!

He was almost ready to tear his hear out! He had to be able to get to the airport faster! And that definitely wasn't going to happen unless he flew over himself or something! Why, oh why, weren't there any available taxis?

Then, as if from the heavens, the storm clouds parted and a beacon of light shone down onto the icy roads. Like a spotlight, it followed, praise the Lord, a taxi, rolling down the street. (Alright, so it didn't happen exactly like that, but if he actually made it to Australia, he'd immortalize the scene in that way in the form of a movie.)

Waving his arms around in the air, not caring how crazy he looked, Ivan ran towards the taxi and shouted, nearly straying off the sidewalk. For a moment, it looked as though the taxi would drive straight past him, but instead, it stopped just short of hitting him. Not that it would've affected him, though. Even if Ivan had fractured his leg, or even if he couldn't move his legs at all, he was going to make it to Australia no matter what!

"К где?" the driver asked as the Russian climbed into the back seat. Ivan couldn't even be bothered to buckle up his seatbelt as he said, almost desperately, "аэропорт! Сейчас!"

Either the taxi driver sensed the urgency in his voice, or he sensed his inevitable death coming closer if he didn't obey (maybe even both), but no sooner had the words left the Braginski's mouth did the driver's foot slam into the gas pedal, making the vehicle speed off down the street.

They were going as fast as they could, this Ivan knew, but it felt as if he was not going to get there in time. The unfamiliar tension of impatience was running through his body, being released in the form of almost spasmodic finger-tapping and knee-jerking, but even if they were able to go any faster, surely the car would slip on the ice and crash into a telephone pole. Again, this definitely would not stop the nation from getting to the airport, but it would most certainly slow him down.

He could just explode right now! He was so restless; he could not wait any longer. He couldn't go much faster, but on the bright side, it couldn't get much worse, right?

Of course, though, it seemed that Ivan had not yet learned to learn from experience and remember the important things as Murphy's Law came to kick him in the butt again. 'Can't get any worse, you say?' Murphy's Law scoffed at him. 'We'll just see about that!'

And so he did. This time, Ivan was pretty sure that some part of him exploded (no doubt his sanity) when he saw the myriad of vehicles lined up so close that they were making out with each other. The line continued on even beyond his vision, disappearing into little ant-like dots. Perhaps they were dot-like ants. Whether they were this or that, though, it wouldn't change the fact that there was basically indigestion of traffic and he wasn't getting anywhere soon unless the road had massive diarrhea within the next few seconds. Worse yet, the car's clock seemed to cackle at him, 'it's already 3:15, buddy! You'll never make it on my watch!' He almost wanted to smash those tiny red numbers, but that would just be wasting valuable money. Suddenly, Ivan cringed.

Money. It was used as a medium of exchange, most notably that of a taxi ride.

It also happened to be something that Ivan did not currently have.

Ivan slammed open the door. It'd be faster if he went by foot, anyway, and maybe if he snuck out now, the driver wouldn't notice. How wrong he was! As if someone of his frame could honestly sneak out of a car so pathetically small that it could not hold the nation of Russia!

"Стоп, ты!" the driver shouted, sounding both panicked and angry. On most days, perhaps, Ivan would have sympathized with him, but his top priority right now was to get to the airport. Ivan ignored him and continued to make his way out of the door, but was stopped with another shout.

"Ты должен платить! Я буду запоминать ты!"

"Нет! Это срочный!"

Wrong thing to say. Now the driver was fuming, and had grabbed Ivan's arm with strength that must have been vise-like by human standards, but was like a pinprick to Ivan.

"Кто ты? Нет, это не важный; ты должен платить сейчас!"

"Если ты думаете вы можете остановить меня, Иван Брагинский, Российская Федерация, ты неправильный!"

Ripping his arm from the wide-eyed man's grasp, he stomped (yes, stomped) out of the car, almost tripping in the process, but even that couldn't riddle his dignity now. He was barely five minutes away from the airport; surely, if he ran, he would not be too late!

He didn't allow himself to fall, not even as the falling snow became sharp ice beating down on his face, not even as he felt his feet going numb. Suddenly, he felt as though that if he didn't make it in time, that was his last chance. Once it was gone, surely, he'd have no reason to live anymore. Why did he feel this way? It felt as though Steve still believed in him. Maybe, right now, he was hoping that Ivan would still come for New Year's, as if he still trusted in him. Maybe he had still not lost faith in him. Maybe he'd be happy if Ivan came, or maybe he'd not care.

Ivan wasn't going to find out by just sitting around.

He'd just made it to the airport's car park before he started tripping over. Damn it, the snow was really picking up. If he was unfortunate enough, or if General Winter hated him enough, all the flights would be grounded. Was he too late? No, he couldn't give up, not until he was absolutely sure that there was no chance left. It was only by sheer determination that he was able to pick himself up off the ground and run to the entrance without collapsing. Even his adrenalin could not mask the cold any longer; his limbs were shaking by the time he entered the building, and his entire body was numb to the outside but was on fire in the inside. At least, he thought, it was warmer inside the building. Then again, the only reason that it was so was because of all the sweat that dampened the air.

There were throngs of people everywhere, no doubt to catch the New Year overseas. That meant that everybody had a plane ticket, something that Ivan did not have, and not only that, but they must've had knowledge of the time difference of their destination, again something that Ivan did not have. He had not time to make sure he didn't go berserk or hurt anyone. What mattered now was that he absolutely had to get to Australia and if he could get there by plane, _now_.

Using pretty much all of the strength that he could conjure in that moment, (no doubt knocking out a lot of people in the process) he managed to shove his way to the help desk, startling the people behind the counter by collapsing in a panting heap.

"Ты в порядке?" one of them gathered the courage to ask. How pathetic, Ivan thought. Now a mere human was asking him if he was alright! He was a damned nation, and not just any nation, but the Russian Federation, and all it took to take him down now was a little bit of snow! With a grunt, the Russian managed to heave himself up, despite the fact that his legs were beginning to give way.

"…да, да. Я хорошо. Что такое время в Австралии?"

"А-Австралии? Где в Австралии?"

Great, Ivan groaned. He'd forgotten – Australia was bigger than the entirety of Europe! Of course it would be like Russia and have different time zones! Hadn't Steve mentioned something about where he lived? Surely, then, he'd live in the capital? That's how it was for most nations! (But then again, this was Steve. For all he knew, he actually lived in the desert with kangaroos.) What was the capital of Australia, again? Ivan was starting to regret having memorized every country's capital. It wasn't as if he was going to take over the world or anything… seriously!

"…Канберра. Что такое время в Канберра?" Ivan asked desperately, slamming his palms against his counter and leaving a dent. The man with wide eyes behind the counter seemed to realize that the size of the mini-craters were big enough to fit his head in, and somehow understood that it was the consequence if he couldn't answer the question fast enough.

"П-Полдвенадцатого!"

Ivan slumped to the ground in exhaustion. He didn't have to know how long a flight to Australia took to know that he'd never make it to Australia on time. Even if he somehow made it to Australia fast enough, he'd never be able to find the brunet in time. Suddenly, the slowed drumming of his heart drowned out all of the noise; he couldn't hear the concern expressed by the people at the help desk, he couldn't hear the flights being called over the speakers and he couldn't hear the incessant chatter filling up the airport.

Was that it? Was everything really so hopeless now? That last sliver of a chance that he had of repairing their friendship – was that lost forever, too? Had his last hope been shattered into a trillion little pieces, irreparable? He couldn't believe it – he didn't want to believe it. All that he had done up until now, all that Natalya had forced herself to do, all that he just went through, all that he had put Steve through – in the end, was it all for nothing?

In the back of his mind, he knew, it wasn't as though it was the end of the world. He was in so much pain now, but in time, everything fades. There would be a day where he'd look back, and everything he did would seem insignificant. As a nation, he knew that it was inevitable. In time, he'd forget it, because it wasn't an alliance, it didn't affect the country, and now, it wasn't even a friendship. He wouldn't be the only one. Steve would eventually forget, too. There would come a time where none of it mattered.

But Ivan didn't want that time to come.

One day, these things would stop mattering, but right here, right now, it mattered. That's why it was so important; that's why right here, right now, he was going to try.

He had to fix it while he still could. But Ivan squeezed his eyes hut, trying to stop cold tears from falling.

It would take nothing short of a miracle to help him now!

"Someone asked for a miracle?"

At first, Ivan hadn't heard the question. Absently, he registered the sudden movement of the crowd, shifting and migrating to make a pathway. Then, when everything was strangely silent, and even the beating of his heart quieted, Ivan cautiously cracked an eye open. Then he blinked. Then he blinked again. Okay, that just wasn't possible. Maybe the hopelessness of the situation was affecting his perception. Yes, that had to be it! It was either that, or that stupid dream he had the night after the Christmas was using his rotten vodka as an excuse to make itself a reality.

Because there before him stood Arthur Kirkland, personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland… in a toga.

"А-Англия?" Ivan cried incredulously, before he could stop himself. A few Russian civilians looked confused at the seemingly random exclamation, murmuring amongst themselves as they turned to look at the scantily dressed Briton with varying degrees of surprise and confusion. The blond's face turned redder than a traffic light, and it worked pretty well as one, too – everyone in the immediate vicinity had stopped moving, eyes completely trained on the oddly dressed foreigner.

"N-N-No! I'm the Britannia Angel! Don't you know? I grant miracles!" Arthur spluttered, waving his star-tipped wand around frantically. Nobody was impressed. The Briton coughed nervously into his fist.

"W-Well. Anyway, the reason that I'm here is because someone here wished strongly for a miracle! And so – HOLY FUCK IT'S RUSSIA," he suddenly screamed, finally taking notice of the other (and substantially more frightening in that situation) nation for the first time. Ivan, however, was unfazed. He was still in a stupor. How in the world had the Briton gotten there so fast?

"W-Wait a second," Ivan stuttered out, "you said you grant miracles?"

Oh, crap. Arthur should have just pretended to be drunk. If only he knew that it was Ivan that had wanted a wish…

"Y-Yes… s-so, you have a wish, then?"

Maybe Arthur was just 'shitting' him, as the Americans put it. The British 'gentleman' wasn't exactly known for his 'sane' reputation, after all. He could've poisoned himself with either his or Alfred's Christmas food, for all he knew!

But then again, he couldn't exactly explain how the Briton had gotten to Moscow in the first place. It didn't matter whether he came from New York, London or Paris; there was no way that he could've just suddenly appeared in Russia so fast! Maybe it was some kind of elaborate prank and he had been waiting the entire time. But would anyone actually waste their New Year's for doing such a thing? How far behind Moscow was London, anyway? And Arthur obviously hadn't expected Ivan to be there, so could he really have called it planned? Why in the world was he worrying? It was a chance, right? Even if it was a hoax…

…it wasn't like he had anything to lose!

"Take me to Australia!"

"W-What? To Australia? Why would – oh wait, isn't that the poor sap – I-I mean, lucky gentleman that you invited to your house?"

"Да, да. He is the one I invited in to my house. You are wasting my time, да? Please, hurry up," the Russian smiled. There was absolutely no time to waste!

The Briton grimaced. "O-Okay, sure. I'll get you there right now. Out of, er, curiosity, exactly where in Australia do you want to go?"

Ivan looked confused. Something sounded off about that question. (Well, the entire situation seemed off. The two were standing in a crowded airport in a toga and boxers…)

"Where?"

"Well, it is a bloody large place," Arthur snapped, starting to get impatient. Then he winced when he remembered whom he was talking to. "I-I mean, you know, you might end up in the desert or something."

"Are you threatening me, товарищ?" Ivan smiled again, darker this time. Of, if only he had his pipe with him…

"N-No, of course not!" Arthur laughed, somewhat spastically, waving his arms around in a frenzy. "L-Look, just tell me which city you want to go to. There are… er, other people who need, um, help. So, you have any ideas in mind?"

Well. Ivan had yet to plan that far. He knew for certain that Steve would not be in the deserts, but besides that, he didn't have any other clues that would lead him to the Australian. He felt as though every second he spent thinking put more and more pressure on him. To think, Ivan could not recall anything important, and that in the first place had overlooked such an important thing! If he were Steve, where would he be…?

'…usually there's like this huge celebration at the Sydney Harbour...'

"Англия! Where is Sydney Harbour?"

"S-Sydney," Arthur stammered out, caught off guard at the sudden question.

"Take me there!"

"Alright, alright!" Arthur huffed, twirling his wand. "No need to get snippy with me!"

Arthur turned to face the Russian, holding up his wand. Although it looked like a children's wand, Ivan could not help but think it ominous as it glowed brightly, with Arthur muttering something that could have been incantations or obscenities. Then, suddenly, a light blinded him, lasting as long as a camera flash. When he was finally able to open his eyes again, he found himself in quite the precarious position.

He was on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Okay, that wasn't exactly the safest place in the world that he could have been in at the moment. He cringed, thankful for the railings but still somewhat anxious about standing someplace so high (and with fireworks), but nevertheless looked around. No sign of Steve. Well, of course. He couldn't possibly expect that he'd actually be stupid enough to go on the bridge. Why, oh why, didn't Arthur just take him straight to the Australian? He turned to give the Briton a piece of his mind, but found that the toga-wearing blond was nowhere in sight. Either he hadn't gone with him, or he fled the moment they arrived. Anyway, he had no time to exact his revenge on the Briton now! He could do that later! What he had to do now was look for Steve!

From the top of the bridge, he had the perfect view of the entire harbour, but even his eyesight couldn't be that good. All the people loitering the area looked like microbes from where he was standing! Could he really find the Australian amongst the crowds…?

Maybe he could wish Arthur back…

No, Ivan thought, that would defeat the point. The reason he was there was to find the Australian himself and apologize to him _by himself. _

If he couldn't see anything from where he was now, then he had do get down, but he couldn't walk – it just wasn't physically possible anymore. If he tried to walk, his legs might actually fall off. It felt as though his entire body was being anchored to the sea floor, and if he tried to move, it would only drag him down further.

His vision was hazy. It was worse than back at the airport; it wasn't just his hearing that was being muted, but his even consciousness was fading out. Had he pushed himself too far this time? And all for just one person? Impossible! He had survived invasions, World Wars, civil wars and revolutions! And now, it would be physical limitations that held him down? Just how far had he fallen? He had to stand, he had to go look for the brunet _now, _but his body refused to comply with his mind, instead thinking that it was a good idea to go for independence, and it was not going down without starting a war.

He could keep telling himself that he'd never find the Australian in time, but it wasn't as though it would help him at all, or make him go faster. He'd never know it for certain unless he actually went looking for the brunet himself. And, just like the other mantra that he'd been muttering to himself like a lifeline, that wouldn't help him, either. He could look for the brunet all he wanted, but the fact was, he didn't even know where to start, and there was no way that he would be able to find the other nation before all of the humans finally left.

The top of the bridge was far, but it was the only place from which he could see everyone on the harbour. He could try to leave now, but he would never be able to make it to one of the buildings in time, and if he tried to sift through the crowd himself, it would take even longer! For now, all he could do was hope that his eyesight would hold out until he could find the Australian. Ivan looked around past the hoards of people to see even a glimpse of Steve. What exactly was he looking for? He was looking for a brunet with a band-aid on his nose and two strange cowlicks in his hair, and he carried around… a red-eyed koala!

The Australian, by himself, was just as tall as Alfred, and with the koala perched on his shoulder, he almost reached Ivan's nose. Even through so many people, red eyes were unmistakable in a crowd, especially if they glowed. (Gilbert was yet to learn this little tidbit of information.) If he could find the koala, then surely…!

Staggering as he went along the bridge, his violet eyes searched among the humans for even the slightest glimpse of red. Unfortunately for him, the koala's eyes weren't the only things that were red. Many of the people on the bridge were carrying Australian flags with them, and the Southern Cross on their flags was a very bright red. He had to narrow down some distinguishing features. Small, red-eyed and furry. Somehow, this had turned into a hunt for the koala rather than Steve. Ivan shook the thought out of his head (not literally, of course. If he did, then his head would probably roll right off his neck) and sluggishly continued to look around, his feet eons behind his restless mind.

Several false alarms consisting of gray beards and Coke cans finally set the Russian off. He could not continue such fruitless attempts! He needed a better method of searching for the brunet. It wasn't as if he hadn't done such a thing before. He had been involved with assassination and (it was of orders from his boss – seriously!) stalking, and never had he had so much trouble when looking for people! Granted, he'd had much more time than he had on hand and the number of people in the area was simply insane, but it was not as though he had ever failed! It had been so long since he'd had to do such a thing – was he becoming rusty?

Looking for a nation should be much easier than looking for a human – they just stood out easily. Not just by appearance – one look at them and you could tell that they weren't one of the humans. Maybe if Ivan were a bit more superstitious (or maybe the word he was looking for was _insane – _as in insane as Arthur was), he'd think that it was because the nations had a different aura than the humans. They were powerful, intimidating. If Ivan went one step past insane, then he'd admit that maybe you could seek a nation out by this type of aura. Too bad that he wasn't, so that even if such a thing was possible, Ivan wasn't capable of it.

It was so hopeless. Even with his regular eyesight, he doubted that he'd be able to find someone from so far, and now that he was beginning to get tunnel vision, it was even worse. Could he really find the Australian before New Year's? Perhaps he would be able to find him afterwards, be it days or weeks. But would it not be too late? What he was hoping for, what he was hoping that Steve was hoping for, was that they'd be able to meet in the New Year as they had promised. If he could not find him now, then did that not mean that everything was meaningless? Whatever faith the Australian had left in him would be extinguished, surely, if he were too late.

It wasn't as though he could go back now. Arthur was gone, meaning that his entire means of transport was gone. Maybe he'd be able to book a flight back to Russia, but considering that he had nothing on him, much less his wallet, it was inevitable that he'd have to see the Australian again. And if he met Steve again without being able to apologize properly… how would he react? Would he even forgive him? Why did the idea of being hated by the brunet hurt him so much?

Everything that Ivan had been doing up until that point was insane. Everything that he had been feeling up until that point was a mess. Why did he concern himself with the Australian, a darker part of himself thought, when he was able to treat other nations with such cruelty? No, the Australian was more than just a nameless nation to him. He was a person – he was his friend. Was it normal to think so often about your friend in such a manner? Was it normal to try and involve one's self so wholly into another's life, when they had only known each other for but a few days? In the days he spent with the cheerful man, he had been caught in a whirlwind of emotions – emotions that he thought had been locked away so long ago. He couldn't even hope to sort them out, not in the state that he was in. So why did the reason sound so clear? Why did it seem so obvious why he felt that way, and yet so absurd and unacceptable?

He liked…

No. Nothing mattered. What he felt and thought of the brunet didn't matter - not if he didn't find the Australian now. But try as he might, he would not be able to find the Aussie now; not with the way that he was searching for him. Was there really no other way?

A cold wind chilled his skin. He shuddered involuntarily, rubbing his bare arms. He was used to the cold, but the wind had been unexpected since the weather was so humid. Australia really was scorching hot, even in the dead of night, and yet so high up even the winds were freezing. Up until then, there hadn't been a single cold breeze, so he found it strange, but did not think much of it – he had more pressing matters to attend to, after all. He continued to strain his eyes in vain, before a flash of white caught his eye. Momentarily distracted, his eyes followed it to find that it was a snowflake, which melted almost instantaneously when it made contact with the railing. Ivan felt his skin go the same color as the snow.

T-The wind must have blown a snowflake from afar. Or perhaps it wasn't a real snowflake in the first place. Yes, that had to be it! It just had to! He sincerely hoped that it was, and when Ivan hoped, it usually happened! (Eventually.)

His wish decided that it wasn't about to be fulfilled in that exact moment. Or rather, General Winter decided that it wasn't.

Ivan only gaped in horror. How did General Winter get to Australia so quickly? Oh, that's right; he wasn't even human, nor nation, and he highly doubted that he had a physical body. Of course he wasn't affected by the silly limitations planted onto living things! That, or he had been following Ivan the entire time and had been teleported to Australia with him. Either way, it did not change the fact that General Winter was standing (or floating, more like) in front of him, an icy hand placed on his shoulder. Maybe he was there to finally put the nation out of his misery and just push him off the bridge once and for all! Ivan scrunched up his eyes and pulled his scarf closer, waiting for a push, _anything, _but nothing came. Instead, when he opened his eyes again, General Winter was pointing in the general direction of the crowds on the harbour.

Ivan didn't understand. Yes, it was a crowd, and yes, it was highly likely that Steve would be in that crowd, but no, he had no way of knowing exactly where the brunet was. He furrowed his brows, frowning at the other man, but still he pointed, unfaltering. Ivan turned to look and Winter smiled.

Wait. General Winter was like the personification of snow, right? Then would it not be correct that he would be able to sense where warmth was, or at least stay away from it? Nation's temperatures were different to that of humans. They were always extreme representations of the country's status, be it economic or even just in weather. Alfred's temperature (not to mention his smell) skyrocketed during summer, and even Ivan's own temperature was absurdly cold. Considering the country and the season, then wouldn't Steve's temperature be extremely high?

He remembered from when they held hands, or when he carried the brunet – always, his temperature was like that of the sun, scalding and burning him, and yet, warm and comforting. If even he, Russia, feel his warmth, then surely, his temperature was not something normal!

If General Winter helped him, he could find Steve!

Then he hesitated. Had he not said himself that he had to find the Australian by himself? If General Winter helped him, then it defeated the point, didn't it? He could not even manage to find the Australian on his own – if he could not do even that, did he really deserve to be his friend?

But up until then, he had been receiving help. If it weren't for Natalya, he mightn't even be outside the house. If it weren't for Arthur, he mightn't even be in Australia. And now, he would be helped by General Winter, who, although had been torturing him with treacherous winds and bitter snow for centuries, had helped him time and time again when he needed it.

Then there was Steve.

If it weren't for Steve, he might have remained without a friend. If it weren't for him, he might still be lonely. He might have still been living his life drearily, and his relationship with his sisters would not have been fixed. It was for him that he tried so hard, that he had broken out of his shell and asked help of others. Why did it matter if he found the brunet by himself or not? Was it something to be ashamed of if he had help? It was Steve who believed that Ivan would be able to gain new friends that would be able to help him when the going got tough. And if even Steve believed in him, then…

…well, he was going to believe in himself.

"…please," Ivan began before he knew he was speaking, climbing above the railing as he spoke, "take me to him."

Then Ivan jumped off the bridge.

Perhaps in hindsight, such an action wasn't such a good idea, but he had no other choice if he wanted to get to the harbour faster! It wasn't as though he would have died by such a means, anyway – after all, he had jumped out of a plane once without a parachute and here he was, fine and dandy. General Winter sped up ahead of him, unaffected by limits such as gravity. Of course, Ivan wasn't unfocused enough to jump straight into the ocean – in his state, there was no way that he'd be able to swim. Instead of landing in the dark waters, his bare feet impacted heavily with the roof of a cruise ship, shaking the entire vehicle and denting something (he wasn't sure whether it was the roof or his feet).

The occupants of the boat rushed outside to see what had hit their roof, but Ivan paid them no heed. If there was one thing he was sure of at the moment, it was that the boat was definitely not heading towards the harbour. He had to find another way!

The Russian looked around desperately – he needed a way, any way, no matter how absurd. If worse came to worst and he had to swim, he would be willing to swim. But even if he swam, there was no way that he would be able to swim fast enough to get there before midnight. By the time he would be able to get there, all the people would probably be filing out and into their homes, already. Was there really no other way…?

No. He had to remain steadfast. If there weren't any other way, then he would swim without complaint. As if Steve hadn't been risking anything in talking to him! Ivan suspected that the Australian had known more about him than he had let on. There was no way that in talking to him, Steve hadn't known that he could've damaged his own reputation severely. There was no way that in talking to him, Steve hadn't been even the slightest bit afraid. There was no way that the Australian hadn't had someone else to spend Christmas and New Year's with, and yet he still chose to go with Ivan instead. It weren't as though the Australian had not put any effort in to talking to him! Ivan knew, that even if he weren't a nation, there was no one in the world that would try to approach him just to talk, or even willingly sit next to him, and yet, that's exactly what Steve had done! Ivan was not going to sit idly by and just let all the effort, that risk go to waste, not for someone he cared about! If he would put in effort for him, Ivan Braginski of all people, then hell, he was going to do it too!

For a split second, General Winter looked panicked (he was capable of doing that?), as did the passengers of the boat still watching on as Ivan suddenly made to jump off the boat, thinking that he was going to commit suicide (well, he couldn't exactly blame them. His zombie walk was very convincing), but the Russian found that they were the furthest things from his mind. He made a running start across the lengthy rooftop, pushing his stiff legs to run as fast as they possibly could in their worn out condition before leaping off into the sea.

Well, he pretty much shocked even himself. He was so sure that the moment he even hit the water, he'd dissolve into ash or something, what with the drastic conditions that his body had been put through in the past few hours, but instead, thanks to the immense amount of willpower he still had left, he'd managed to actually _swim. _He wasn't exactly famous for his swimming, but at the very least he'd be able to freestyle against the current… on a normal day, at least. He may have been able to murder his body to the point that it was swimming into its afterlife, but that didn't mean he could push against the waves any faster. Alright, take back the swimming part. It was more like he was keeping himself afloat, but the waves were just tossing him along. His zombie swimming was much more convincing than his walk, it seemed; he looked as though he were a corpse thrown into the ocean.

The harbour was only a few hundred feet away. There were only two outcomes in this situation. One, he made it out alive and to the harbour, or two, he got swept away and would never find Steve and would die (and this time, in a completely literal sense…). Even from scenario one, it wasn't guaranteed that he'd find Steve. But if he couldn't even get that far, he wouldn't even have the chance of looking for him, so that was currently his top priority! With his power alone, he'd never be able to make it to the harbour! Cursed General Winter and his being an exception to human limitations! He had to summon all the power of his nation, his people, his entire history!

With a battle cry fit for a World War, Ivan pushed his body one step further and swam with all the strength he could towards the harbour.

And make it to the harbour he did.

It had been much more anti-climactic than he'd expected. He'd expected it to be rendered as a raging battle between the sea and him (he was so ever disappointed with the author of this fic), expected the experience to be heart-pounding and fit for some adventure-romance film. The heart-pounding part was right on the mark. The moment he'd pushed himself out of the water and onto the land, the only thing his waterlogged ears could hear was the wild thrumming of his heart. The entire time, he concentrated only on moving one arm in front of the other, the propelling of his feet. He concentrated on only the reason he was trying so hard; the reason that right now, he felt like his entire life was weighing down on this moment.

The entire time, he concentrated only on Steve.

The crowds stared at him as though he were the Kraken. Fair enough – he had seaweed hanging all over him, and various other objects that were the result of littering. Ivan spit out some seawater, shivering. There were more important things to worry about than the staring of strangers. Things like where in the massive crowd Steve was in now, or that he wasn't actually able to move in order to look for the brunet. His legs were shaking, now more similar to a seizure than to simple trembling. Had he finally pushed himself too far? No, he was a nation! He knew that it took more than just that to make him break – that if he pushed himself to what would be a human's breaking point, he would absolutely not die. While he was still conscious, while he could still move, while he still had time, he definitely had to find the Australian, no matter what it took! Speaking of which, where was General Winter?

Ivan chanced a look behind himself to find that General Winter must have fled. That, or he'd left looking for Steve and had totally ditched him. If that were the case, then shouldn't there be a huge opening in the masses where he should be? Frantically, Ivan looked around – Winter was his last hope of finding that brunet in time – and, to his horror, found General Winter off scaring the frozen cokes and snow cones off the citizens. So much for being his last resort! Was General Winter's true objective just to give him false hope and make his life worse? Ivan growled before he could stop himself, managing to ward off some wary passerby. If General Winter was ever helping, it wasn't going to be right now. He was going to have to make a start by himself!

"10!"

With weak hands, he pushed some people barring his path away, stumbling on. Without his superhuman strength, he was only about as strong as a tank (yes, that was 'only'. On a bad day, he was strong as a nuclear power plant), but still he was able to make his way through the crowds without much trouble. He couldn't even see properly anymore, everything a blur; all the sounds were muted, blending into a cacophony of white noise. The only thing that was clear to him was his thoughts, but even they seemed muddled.

"9!"

He'd come all this way, his will and determination bringing him in less than a day, reduced himself into a bumbling, fumbling weak _human, _and for what? For a person? A fellow nation? A friend? Or were they even less than that and now were no more than strangers?

"8!"

Perhaps, even just a few days before now, the very idea that he'd try so hard for another was simply absurd. Him, Ivan? The unfeeling monster? To even think that he'd try and go so far just to see someone else, least of all _apologize _of all things, was enough to declare one insane! Why did he try so hard? Just a few days ago, the Australian was less than an acquaintance to him, but now, he held onto him as if he were his lifeline. Why did the brunet suddenly feel so important to him? Why did he feel as though that if he could not see him here and now, he would lose all hope?

He liked…

"7!"

'…it is more complicated than that,' the phrase repeated itself in his head, echoing Ivan's words to Natalya. That's right. Ivan could bring himself to admit that, perhaps, he liked the brunet more than he should as a friend. But at the same time, he wasn't even sure if they could be considered friends anymore. He had already said of himself, that he wasn't able to make sound judgements about what a friend and a lover were. Could a mere infatuation bring him so far? Was that all it took to drag him all the way from one country to another, and on New Year's Eve of all times? Could Ivan say that his infatuation with Toris was enough to make him do that, enough to make him beg for him back right then and there?

"6!"

Could Ivan say that when he looked at the brunet smiling, that all he felt was simple infatuation? That the fluttering of his heart when he heard the Australian's cheerful laugh or sunny voice was only of childish, fleeting like? That his urge to just reach out to the Australian when his warmth turned away from him was only of a shallow fascination? Could Ivan say that the smile brought to his own lips from the Australian's grin was merely infectious; could he deny the strange, bubbling happiness it brought him? Could Ivan say that, after experiencing all of this, after admitting that he liked the brunet, that he could let go of him without feeling as though a stake had been driven through his heart?

"5!"

He found that, even in his mind, he could not. While his mind struggled with his thoughts, his body struggled against the crowd, eyes unfocused and unseeing until, so suddenly that he almost couldn't comprehend, he saw a familiar flash of chestnut brown hair, spiked up and disheveled. Suddenly he was moving through the crowd faster than he'd ever before, numb to all the fatigue and pain he'd endured and eyes only focused on that one person. Wide green eyes turned to him slowly, as though Time were trying to torture him in its sluggishness, and when cracked lips parted to call his name suddenly everything made sense; he knew why he felt so strange around him, why he cared so much, why he felt as though he could not live without him.

He loved…

"4!"

"Ivan, what in the world are you–"

"I came to say, I am sorry for saying what I did! I never meant to–"

"3!'

"Never mind that, how the hell did you get here so fast? I thought you were with your li'l sister back in Russia!"

"I was! But she let me go here to see you! I came to apologize, you see…"

"2!"

"I thought, maybe I hurt you by saying what I did, and I came to say that I did not mean to, and the only reason I did so was because I was afraid that Natalya would hurt you, and I thought that maybe you would hate me…"

"Did you think I wouldn't be your mate anymore? Don't be crazy! Of course you're still my friend!"

"1!"

"No, but, that is what I mean! I do not want to be friends! I…!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The masses shouted and applauded, loudly celebrating the coming of the New Year, but the two nations were deaf to the excitement, trapped in a world of their own. Ivan's hands held the other close, close enough to feel each other's rapid heartbeat. Bright green eyes stared into clouded violet, locked together and unwavering. Lips were placed lightly against the others, barely brushing but still sending sparks of electricity flying between the two. For just a moment, they were seamless, woven together so tightly they were one. Neither spoke, even after they parted, hands still resting against each other.

"I…I love you."

The words had slipped out before Ivan was able to stop them, but for once he did not mind. In the end, that was what he had really wanted to say. The reason he had pushed himself so far just to see the brunet, the reason he would care so much and fall so hard; it was so blindingly obvious, everything made sense now.

All along, he had loved him.

Steve was speechless, staring wide-eyed at the violet-eyed man, stuttering wordlessly as though too confused to speak. It was then that Ivan became worried. What if the Australian hated him well and truly now? What if, even after all this, Steve wouldn't want him back and would refuse him? Ivan's grasp loosened. If Steve were to try and escape… he was not one to stop him. He had every right to flee. There was absolutely no reason that the brunet should try and stay with him. If Steve were to not want to be with him… Ivan felt like crying, but if it was what the Australian wanted, then who was he to stop him?

But the brunet did not try to move out of the Russian's embrace, rooted to the spot. Then his eyes crinkled up, tears welling in the corners as he laughed, face red and freckles ever-present,

"…you asshole! I was waiting for you, y'know!"

Ivan laughed, too, relief in his voice as Steve too laughed. The two stood, embracing each other, laughing as though they had found themselves; they had found each other. People all around were still cheering for the New Year when the two's chuckles died down into breathless panting, their heated breath fogging up the air and intermingling with each other. The two clung to each other, having fallen silent, simply basking in each other's presence with a newfound appreciation, different from the air when they last met. They closed their eyes, pressing their foreheads against one another's, concentrating on the warmth that they brought each other. All the tension Ivan had in his body suddenly drained away, wrapped up in the comfort of Steve's arms. It was so undeniable, their feelings for each other. How could they have missed it, even for a moment?

After a moment of silence, ignoring the crowd's cries around them, Steve finally said, clearly and unabashedly,

"I love you too."

Ivan smiled warmly at him, smiling wider than he had in years. He ran his bare hand down the Australian's cheeks softly, still laughing a little.

"I love you," he repeated again.

Then he fell backwards.

* * *

So eventually, all that struggling took its toll on the Russian. After he had collapsed, Steve ended up having to drag the Russian to the hospital. Pneumonia, they said, and what seemed to be a lot of broken bones and extreme fatigue. Ivan had woken up before they could do any X-rays and told the Australian the entire story of how he had gotten there in the first place. Steve wasn't sure whether to laugh or be worried. He ended up doing both, the latter more discreetly.

The next day, Ivan was up and out of bed, as though nothing had ever happened. This befuddled the doctors a great lot, so Alfred came over himself and erased their memories using some sort of ray gun in order to prevent them from finding anything out about the nations. (Steve had heard that it was a present from Tony, and no doubt that the entire reason that Alfred came over was to check it out. Even he couldn't imagine the American flying in all the way from – England, probably – just to help his 'arch-nemesis', the Russian Federation.)

Misunderstandings between everyone were eventually cleared up. No, Ivan's objective was not to molest the Australian (Francis' however, were, but Ivan would make sure that it soon wouldn't be), they were close and it was all consensual, no, there wasn't any politics involved, no, Russia wasn't trying to get Australia out of the Commonwealth and Russia wasn't trying to get in, and so on and so forth. Steve was eventually able to convince the Russian that he wasn't angry with him, yes, he had been hoping all the time that the Russian would come, yeah, he kinda liked the Russian from the start and had known more than he let on, and no, he was never giving Ivan his jacket back. In return, Ivan apologized profusely for what he had done, apparently not understanding the meaning of the words 'I forgive you'.

With everything cleared up, the Russian eventually returned to his mother country (with a borrowed set of clothes, of course. Not Steve's, but…). It was inevitable, but it didn't make the parting any less teary than it shouldn't have been.

"You guys are like straight outta some soap-opera!"

Of course, Alfred and Ivan very nearly brought down the airport, but they left the country before they could be deported. The moment Ivan landed, and every moment after that, it seemed, the Russian called the Australian, spending hours just talking to him. The two tried to visit each other as much as possible outside of meetings, and made it a point to spend every possible second with each other.

Natalya begrudgingly tolerated it, not wanting to get in the way of her brother's happiness but still not completely approving of the Australian, while Yekaterina cheerfully claimed that she had known that 'something like this' would happen all along. The Baltics were just glad that Ivan was finally off their back, while on the other side of the family Arthur was still wary of the Russian, believing of his good intentions but still not trusting. Of course, Alfred didn't approve at all, but it was just for the sake of hating on Ivan; he wasn't all that close with Steve, anyway. They all had a feeling that they were still forgetting a certain someone's opinion, but they shrugged it off.

And, well, what were Ivan and Steve doing now?

They grew sunflowers, tall and strong, that lasted for many winters, draped in tinsel-covered snowflakes.

* * *

IT'S OVER I'M SORRY YOU CAN KILL ME NOW AH. Well, don't fear, now that this is done, I'm going to try and finish Britannia Angel (sorry it's been so prolonged), at least by the end of the school holidays...

I went kind of crazy with the Russian and foreign languages on this chapter, I'm sorry.

Hyvää joulua – Finnish for 'Merry Christmas'

Брат – Brother

Наталя – Natalya

моя дорогая сестра – my dear sister

Ваня – Vanya

моя сестра – my sister

да – yes

Екатерiна – Yekaterina

Нет – no

Літва – Lithuania

Сестра – sister

Спасибо – thank you

Сколько времени? – what is the time?

К где? – where to?

аэропорт! Сейчас – airport! Now

Стоп, ты! – stop, you!

Ты должен платить! Я буду запоминать ты – you must pay! I will remember you!

Нет! Это срочный – No! This is urgent

Кто ты? Нет, это не важный; ты должен платить сейчас! – Who are you? No, that doesn't matter; you must pay!

Если ты думаете вы можете остановить меня, Иван Брагинский, Российская Федерация, ты неправильный – If you think you can stop me, Ivan Braginsky, the Russian Federation, you are wrong

Ты в порядке – are you all right?

Я хорошо. Что такое время в Австралии – I am fine. What is the time in Australia?

А-Австралии? Где в Австралии – Australia? Where in Australia?

Канберра. Что такое время в Канберра – Canberra. What is the time in Canberra?

Полдвенадцатого – half past eleven

Англия – England

Товарищ – comrade

Thank you for reading!


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